The Winter Rose
by Dbananad
Summary: It had been years since Snow White had been locked away in her tower. Years since she had felt the love of her father and mother, both dead and gone; taken from her by the frost of winter's grip and the cruel talons of the Witch Queen. And yet, Snow could never find it in her heart to hate the blonde beauty who was like a specter, forever haunting her. Hate, never was an option.
1. The Nighttime Visitor

**A/N: Hello all. It feels great to write another fanfiction after a brief hiatus, especially for what I consider one of the best movies ever made. This is my first one dabbling in Snow White and the Huntsman but it has been rattling about in my head for quite a while and I decided to give it a go even though it has been quite a few years since the film came out. I believe the story is timeless so it works for me. A brief warning: there will be femslash between Snow White and Queen Ravenna in later chapters so if that is not your thing, feel free to leave the story; but if it is, then I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And if you really like it, I would appreciate a review at the end because it certainly makes writing all the more fun.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The plotline (without my minor adjustments here and there) and characters belong to their respective owners and I make no profit out of these scribbles apart from personal enjoyment.**

There was a softness in the eyes of the child that staid the hand of the Witch Queen; something raw in the tears sliding down the pale cheeks, leaving small trek marks in the grease and soot covering the delicate flesh of the young face. How much of herself she saw in those darkened pools of jade flecked with amber. Herself in another lifetime where winter's chill was held back by the warm embrace of a mother's love and the summer days clung to her golden locks with the sweetness of honey and sunshine. Those eyes, holding her, captivating her, keeping her from passing the order of execution with a flick of her lacquered wrist. It held a strange disparity to her. She had killed children before; it could not have been an excuse since she had just sent the order that led her army to butcher every resident within the walls of the castle she had sacked. Every resident; except one: Snow White.

How the child had smiled at the new Queen on the day of the wedding. Radiance in a little glass shell ready to shatter at the briefest of breezes, and yet housing the entirety of the world's hope in the nervous fingers playing at the hem of the quaint skirt. How she had stood, petrified, in that small hallway before fleeing from her like a foal only to be caught by the iron jaws of the wolf moments later. And now there was only fear. And the child had cause to feel such terror; Ravenna held Snow's life in her perfect milky hands. But try as she might, she could not crush the fragile heartbeat, could not snuff out the light blossoming beneath the torn and tattered remnants of the girl's garments. Her brother, Finn, stood behind the tiny prisoner, awaiting her next command. Her clawed fingers curled around the hem of her nightdress, the white satin giving way easily beneath the force of her grip. She stood atop the stairs leading into the grey walls of the castle where the screams of the last remaining occupants slowly died away to the whispers of souls leaving the bodies. Her mouth opened, prepared to speak the words of doom; to condemn the innocent child to an early grave; and found herself saying instead, "Lock her away. One never knows when royal blood may be of value."

The girl did not struggle as she was taken to what would become her prison for over a decade. All she did was gaze up at the Queen's face with those eyes, questioning and confused. Ravenna growled at the clenching of her stomach under the touch of the molten orbs, suppressing the urge to wrench them out so as to assuage the warring emotions of guilt and anger. Over eight hundred years she had wandered the wretched world, bringing kingdoms down and kings to their knees before her without a hint of remorse. Cruelty was familiar to her. Cruelty had been her companion throughout the majority of her existence. _So why?_ Why were such emotions resurrecting their rotted corpses within her blackened heart? The uncertainty in Snow's demeanor was only mirrored within the turbulent mists of Ravenna's eyes. She had said that the girl and she were bound what seemed like eons ago. Never had she felt the bond as strongly as she did standing in the courtyard surrounded by the dead and the dying as the smoke billowed into the night sky, blotting out the silver pinprick stars. Shaking her head she turned away, moving toward the room that she had dedicated to her precious golden mirror. The towering cloaked figure had grown familiar to her too. There would be time to think on the child's fate in the ensuing lull of shock that inevitably overtook the peoples of a newly conquered territory. For now, Ravenna had won, and she was keen on replenishing the magic she had expended in the seizure. The first of the few captives she had left alive was brought before her in light chains. The woman's face was comely, not exceptionally beautiful, but she would do for the moment.

~o()o~

The years passed in whispers to Snow White in her tiny segment of the North Tower; a dark portion of the castle once considered her home. Her girlhood had passed away in the confines of the small room that had been afforded her with its dank walls and crippled bed as the only furnishing. Snow wound a small string around a doll of sticks she had made to amuse herself, stitching the little bundle into a makeshift leg connected to the stiff torso. She had made it a habit of creating such friends as a child from the discarded pieces of firewood the guards occasionally threw into her cell. Summers had been the loneliest times, when the weather was considered too warm for a fire and she was left without any new materials. A ragged cloth lay to the side of her, ready to be made into a plain skirt to clothe the figurine. New clothes had stopped coming once her growth spurts had waned so each strip was a precious commodity. The stick people always fell apart so quickly, if she did not put the utmost care into keeping them sheltered from the damp or the rats. The sky was dark outside of the small window that acted as her only portal to the world outside of the prison room. A chill passing through the iron bars wracked her frail, dirty body with shivers. The dazzling flickers of light outside mirrored the faint sprinkle of light in Snow's eyes; her small fire a microcosm of the brilliant flames of the faraway stars. The crackle of the burning wood in the hearth brought her a little peace with its lullaby rhythm.

The grinding of hinges snapped her out of the sleepy daze she had been falling into. Her muscles tightened, causing her back to curl and for her legs to draw into her chest in a small fetal position against the shadowed wall to the side of the fireplace. The heat of the brick against her left shoulder was sweltering, but she dared not move away from the concealing alcove in fear of what, or who, had come to stand in the entranceway of her extremely humble living quarters.

Snow did not know who she had been expecting- there was rarely anyone who came into the oppressive vaults unless it was a change in the guard or the rare addition of another prisoner. Even then, the company was short-lived and most moved on to some unknown fate while Snow was forever cursed to watch and fade away between the three stone walls and the rusted bars leading into the corridor. Whoever she might have guessed it to be did not matter in the end, for she would never have been able to foretell the presence of her late night visitor gliding past the door on silent feet covered, like the rest of the figure's body, by a fluid cloak of silver. The person was smaller than the guards, more lithe and feline in the way that it surveyed its surroundings, almost predatory in the way it searched for something that apparently eluded it. The mantle fell away, uncovering fine strands of golden hair that loosely fell over chiseled shoulders and fine collarbone. The emerald irises burned with the reflection of the copper flames illuminating the Spartan expanse. The golden crown that had adorned her head on the night she had sentenced Snow to her life in a cage was no longer there. Even the morbid one  
composed of a series of ebony quartz spikes that Snow had spied her wearing on the infrequent strolls the Queen sometimes took in the courtyard did not sit atop the fine silken locks. It had been the first time in eight years that Snow had seen the woman who had killed her father and had taken her freedom. She should have hated her. She should have rushed her and tackled her to the ground, clawing at her and smashing her head into the hard, cold floor for what she had done. Instead, all Snow felt was emptiness. She could have blamed all of the years of grey moldy nothingness for the hole in her chest where the anger and resentment should have colored her mind a crimson inferno, but her heart told her it was something else that kept her huddled in her small corner. Pity, maybe. An elusive connection between them that she could not name.

_"I feel that you and I are bound," _she had once said. Snow's heart increased its beat at the words, as it always did when she remembered them. Unwittingly she placed a hand over the thrumming organ, just as she had on that crisp winter's day when everything seemed so white and serene.

~o()o~

Upon entering the cold room, Ravenna's step faltered. Her eyes swept across the empty expanse, heart skipping a beat as the presence of the one she had come to see continued to remain absent. A shift in the darkened corner of the fireplace caught her attention, crystalline eyes falling on the half-hidden huddled figure of her captive. The innocence of the child had not left the fifteen-year-old maiden that she had become. Her newly flowered adolescence suited her; the waves of carbonate hair running down Snow's back and along her arms were dirty but held a vitality that drew a foreign pang of jealousy from the blonde; the curve of her face was still soft and delicate despite the years of malnutrition; full red lips, though chapped, teasingly pulled back in a gesture of nervousness. It was suddenly a little too much for the Queen to stay, but once again her bones were frozen by the girl's gaze. Those molten pupils looking at her, waiting to see what she would do next, to discern her purpose for coming to the vile little dungeon when she had never done so before in all of the years that Snow had been kept like an exotic animal.

Snow couldn't keep her curiosity checked. Not once had the beautiful Witch come to see her, whether out of guilt or antipathy or some other reason only known to the enigmatic older woman. The brother had, Snow remembered with a shudder. He had watched her, staring with unconcealed lust many a night, even when she had barely been over a decade old. The visits had become more frequent with each passing year until he appeared behind the bars more often than not now. But Ravenna had always stayed away, a specter of a memory lurking somewhere far beyond the walls of the North Tower which had served as a buffer between Snow and the Queen. Yet, there she was, standing stone still and returning Snow's gaze with a stoic expression betraying nothing.

Ravenna felt herself turned prisoner, held static by the green pools which had haunted her dreams since she had been taken to the wretched palace as a liberated prize. Opposite her, Snow could not seem to fathom Ravenna's unwillingness to do anything. The calm façade had shifted slightly, leaving an air of uncertainty, even discomfort in the way the Queen's head slightly lowered and her shoulders sagged from their rigid posture. The girl's guard rose with each passing moment, questioning the strange behavior of the Witch. Was it not Snow who should have felt disconcerted in the presence of her oppressor and the murderer of her father?

The younger girl's chapped lips opened slightly in a quiet inhale, allowing a slip of air to pass into her mouth, carrying with it the sweetened scent of the Queen to her taste buds. Milk and honey and… something else she could not quite place, but surely made the combination an intoxicating one. In a moment, she felt heady as though having drunk too much wine- reminding her of the serene summers when her father would sneak her a sip from his goblet when her mother had not been looking. This drunkenness was deeper than the faint buzz and loss of coordination she had experienced however. A thought crossed her mind, unbidden as much as it would have been disconcerting had it been thought under normal circumstances. Gazing up at the finely toned form underneath the sweeping robes of liquid metal interwoven with silk, peering into eyes as green as the sea at daybreak, Snow could not help but wonder what she would feel if Ravenna were to kill her right then. Would being murdered by a person who was the embodiment of a Greek Goddess made flesh be a better death than if it were to be done by some wretch in an alley amongst the mud and swine? Would the savory poison slipping into her blood and clamping over her heart hurt less with the finesse of the fingers giving it to her, with the eyes of mountain meadows as the last sight her eyes would see in this world? The answer should have been obvious. The crimes of the woman before her could not be erased by beauty or regality, no matter how divine they were. Yet, watching the soft rise and fall of the Queen's chest with her even breaths, listening to the rustle of fabric against stone as she inadvertently shifted her weight more evenly on her legs, Snow could not think it. There was only sadness for the loneliness outlined in the slope of the full lips and the pity for the loss etched into the depth of the glowing irises.

"It was your birthday today, was it not?"

The voice startled Snow in how familiar it was. She had not heard the other woman speak for years and yet, every syllable, every lilt in the slow, trepid pronunciation, was ingrained perfectly and eternally within the younger girl's throbbing heart. She knew the strength and cruelty hidden in the meekness of the soft-spoken words. Still, they did not frighten her half as much as she would have expected. It was more of a shock to converse with another human being after the solitude she had endured; in some of the darker months, Snow had feared that she had forgotten how to use her words at all. It could have been that solitude that had dampened her sense of self-preservation or something far more obscure that gave the young girl the slightest of inclinations that Ravenna was not there to harm her. Not trusting her larynx to carry her cracked voice, Snow settled for a slow nod in affirmation.

"I…" the Queen faltered. Her thoughts were silently thankful for the shoddy lighting in the dim room for it hid the embarrassing blush that had come to color her pale cheeks a foreign, fragrant rose pink. The sole other occupant looked to her from her corner of shadow with defiant expectation. Ravenna had heard the whispers of the small folk, told by the tongues of her soldiers and servants when they thought she was not listening; their whispers of the former Queen's inspiration in the naming of her daughter. Looking down at the adolescent girl boldly matching her in curiosity and cool brazenness, it made the older woman want to laugh. As powerful and terrible as she was, tall and severe with the long ornamented raven talons hooked over her fingers and the series of bird skulls lining the trimming of the black shift she wore under the argent satin that kept the cold from grazing against her arms otherwise bare, the petulant flower refused to wither. Or perhaps it was her newfound lack of self-assurance that had inadvertently given the girl a boost of courage. Either way, it mattered not. Clearing her throat with the sole intention of regaining whatever fortitude she had lost, Ravenna commanded in her silver-tongued manner, "A girl should not be alone, locked away on the eve of such an important day. The years leading up to your womanhood should be cherished and celebrated. Come, dine with me tonight. The evening is still young and my table is empty of guests."

Snow felt her stomach twine in a violent knot. She could not profess to know what the Witch was playing at; nor did she want to point out the fact that she had spent the last seven birthdays alone, locked up in the tower without so much as a decent meal to mark the day. All she could be certain of was that Ravenna was not to be trusted. Her father had made that mistake once upon a time and it had cost him both his life and his kingdom; it had cost her freedom. The invitation was more of a demand, brokering no arguments, so Snow found herself resigned to shuffling up from her curled position and coming to stand in front of the fire, bathing her features in black except for the silhouette of her cheek and the tip of her delicate nose. She then gave another nod; not that it had been necessary but purely as a conveyance of her readiness to face whatever torment the other woman had in store for her.

~o()o~

Ravenna floated down the corridors of the castle, ever the picture of poise and grace. She had shed the cumbersome cloak when they had descended from the airy passages of the icy tower and entered the heated interior of the palace. Snow's eyes could not keep from tracing the fine lines of the Witch's back, losing themselves in the slope of her shoulder blades and the sway of her hips as the tight-fitting obsidian dress swayed with each step and accentuated the shapely curves of the Queen's developed body. Stumbling over a bend in the carpet lining the hallway, Snow turned her attention to her surroundings instead of the enticing person leading her to an indeterminable fate. The torches lining every pillar cast menacing shadows along the bare walls in between and breathed spectral life into the suits of quartz armor that flanked the scattered doors leading into obscured rooms Snow no longer remembered. Each cold, helmeted face caused her to flinch away, bringing back images of blood and fire and screaming; a small hand stretched out to her then torn away as an invisible horse charged forward. Her thoughts drifted to another haunting scenario, though this one was not bathed in the crimson life blood pouring out of the people who had once loved her. The halls, made of sparkling marble, rang with the cries of children, their laughter tinkling in the breeze like silver bells; the stones on either side of the clumsy little forms running through the wide hallways were adorned with ghostly tapestries marked by vague resplendency. The candleholders had become blackened iron where they had once been pearl and white gold; the portraits her mother had adored no longer hung in their vibrant patterns and hues; the liveliness of the nobles and courtiers was lost to the silent bareness that was only broken by the soft clicks of Ravenna's heels as they echoed across the high, arched ceiling. The building held the similarity of a skeleton without the muscle and sinew that had given it life and identity. And, of course, the biggest change of all was strutting just two strides ahead of Snow, awash with glory that had not faded at all in eight years.

The Queen, sensing the pinpricks along her spine, turned her head slightly to take in Snow's poorly veiled stare directed at her back. She felt a hint of amusement each time the doe eyes widened and the girl's face blanched at every armor display, nearly fainting in her fright. When the Witch's piercing orbs met the skittish oxidized copper green of the girl, she immediately shied away with barely contained hysteria. The long, ebony locks hid away the gaunt cheeks under their thickened tangles. The antics of her little caged bird were strangely endearing, not that Ravenna had any intention of letting such softness show. What may have been a frugal moment of kindness could turn into something deadly much too quickly; she had used such meager displays of mercy to her advantage many times with less than pleasant effects for the person on the other end. Still, a soft smile graced the Queen's lips; one that had not had a place there since her early childhood. One that was sweet in its smallness, without a trace of malice etched into the pull of luscious skin. Her anxiety and anger were quick to remove it as she chastised herself for allowing such forbidden feelings to emerge from their repressed states within the depths of her deadened heart. The anomalous slip in demeanor was gone before Snow had regained enough of her own composure to look back up to where the older woman was leading her.

They reached the dining room not too long after. The elongated table was lit by a candelabra laid atop the velvet white cloth adorning the hard mahogany. Black and gold embroidery laced in twining vines and leaves along the edges until the ends were coalesced into four open morning glories of dark amethyst at each of the four corners. Atop the beautiful needlework, the table was laden with scrumptious meals fit to feed an entire entourage of nobles and servants. Succulent roast pheasant was basted in dark red wine, giving the skin a beautifully crisp glaze. Cranberries dotted salads of fresh greens, lightly sprinkled with transparent dressings. Fishes ranging from the pink freshwater salmon to the exotic saltwater scorpion fish with its many poisonous spines awaited the table occupants, cut open and steaming. Bowls of crème sat next to platters of strawberries, peaches, and small slips of chocolate. Two wild turkeys flanked the centerpiece: a boar almost as big as Snow herself that had been slowly cooked over an open fire. A crisp red apple was precariously balanced in the open jaws, propped against the protruding tusks which had had their ends filed down to two rounded stubs. The beady black eyes caught the flickering golden light of the multitude of tiny fires flickering on the wicks of the scented candles. The strong smell of herbs wafting through the cavernous room was overpowering, making saliva gather in Snow's mouth. Fountains of wine poured rainbow colors of the alcoholic beverage in the four corners of the room. A white quartz statue next to each stood with a tray of glasses lined with gold thread along the bottom and the stem. The two flanking Ravenna and Snow were in the shape of two servants, the faces and clothing carved so splendidly within the stone that they appeared to breathe in time with the candlelight. The two guarding the far doors were ravens with towering wings reaching to the ceiling above, the platters held securely in their golden talons. The eyes were milky white, but held an intelligence to them that warranted Snow to take a second look to ensure that they would not come to life and fly away.

Ravenna had moved forward, already coming to sit upon the chair at the head of the table, her back, as ever, turned to Snow. The message sent was a clear one: Ravenna held no fear from the girl, not even bothering to keep her in her sights. Snow felt slightly insulted by the sheer arrogance of the Witch, even if she truly was more than powerless against her. Stewing in her inability to do anything, the former princess could think of nothing to do other than to take the only chair left along the entire length of table; the seat directly to Ravenna's right. She was gifted with a wicked grin once her skirts were comfortably arranged around the cool iron and plush velvet. The cushioned chair she had been given seemed far more comfortable than the mixture of shiny obsidian and hard steel that carved out the Queen's. The armrests were flecked with tiny, sharp protrusions made to look like the ruffled feathers of a bird of prey; the plumage culminating in a pair of sloping beaks where two milky hands rested uneasily. The back of the chair was neither made of a softer material than the rest, nor was it adorned with a cushion as Snow's was. The metal had been shaped into a pattern of diamond grooves, rising high above the resident's head until it ended in a carving of a Raven in preparation of flight. The eyes were made of rare black amethysts which caught the light in a splendid shower of color to which the obsidian counterparts could not compare.

The prospect of food was a welcome one to the starved girl, but the sheer amount was enough to make her feel even smaller than before. She had become too accustomed to the limited space of the North Tower and the shapeless gruel she had been given at meal times. To be taken into such a high-ceilinged, vast expanse of a room, and then to be showed to such a lavish table; her heart spoke of caution and traps. The appetite suddenly died in her throat. The food looked frightening, promising poison or some grotesque spell that would turn her into some demented soul forever chained to the Witch Queen. The fountains of drink no longer poured soft white or heavy red beverages, but black ooze or crimson blood. The raven's blood, or maybe her own. Looking at the choices laid out before her, Snow could only helplessly curl her fingers around her silver plated fork and feel its weight as though it were Sisyphus's boulder. The candlelight illuminated her filthy skin, her dirty chipped nails, her sunless skin; and she felt the alien in her own home. Only, this was not her home anymore.

Sensing her hesitancy, Ravenna elegantly lifted her own silverware and stuck a strawberry to the end of it. "It isn't poisoned, I assure you," she said taking a bite. The scarlet juice painted her lips a filmy ruby, pronouncing the curve of the upper lip against the otherwise unmarked skin.

_You are magic,_ Snow wanted to retort, _it would not harm you. _Instead, she obediently reached out to take another strawberry from the porcelain plate. The taste was like a dream, pliable and tart with the right amount of sugar to make the sensation pleasant. Her eyes fluttered closed to give her sense of taste the added attention it required, losing herself in the simple joy of something she had once taken so for granted.

When her eyes opened, she was startled by the unabashed way Ravenna was staring at her. Her cheeks flushed a color similar to the food she had just consumed, but she held the emerald gaze, refusing to bow down like she had in the corridors. If anything, her rebelliousness only earned her another sarcastically raised eyebrow. In a voice clearly emphasizing the underlying jape at Snow's distrustful demeanor, Ravenna teased, "Not dead yet?"

"Was I supposed to be?" It was the first time Snow had actually spoken. Her voice was rough, cracked from the dryness of her larynx and the dust trapped in her trachea. Still, the bite behind the words was satisfying. At least, it was until the Queen let out a most unladylike snort of laughter. Snow watched her, looking torn between fleeing for her life and asking whether Ravenna had lost her mind. Growling at the blatant lack of respect she was getting, she resigned herself to ignoring her amused companion and focusing on the food instead.

"You still have that spirit," Ravenna managed after her breathing had evened out. Snow did not feel it natural to describe the dying gasps of mirth as giggles, but they were a far cry from the cackles her nursemaid used to imitate when reading about the witches in her children's books. Had it been possible, Ravenna was even more beautiful when she laughed. There was something in her eyes that sparkled. Snow found herself wishing to catch whatever it had been once more, if only just once. The sting she had felt at being the butt of the joke had diminished with the unexpected show of warmth coming from a woman she had long since thought could not have displayed such human emotions.

Her manners caught up with Snow just as she was about to peel off some of the flaky white flesh off a nearby fish, one she did not know the name of but had a smell of lemon and the sea. She quickly retracted her hand, leaving the piece of silver sticking from the back of the ocean creature like a silver rib much too thick for the delicate vertebrae. Ravenna gave her a look of puzzlement until she practically squeaked, keeping her head lowered and her hands wrapped around her chest, "I forgot to say 'Grace.'"

The Queen's expression changed faster than Snow's racing heart was beating. A grim look faded into one of annoyance then a slight smirk quirked the corners of her mouth up. The smirk stayed, cold and twisted to the point that the younger girl wished she could tear her eyes away from the blonde's face. Unfortunately, her pupils only dilated in response to the dimming atmosphere. She did not know what she had said that had been so wrong. The impoliteness of her forgetfulness seemed too innocent to blame; she had been starving. Then the words themselves; the Queen truly did not seem one for piety.

"I-I apologize. I did not think I had said something to offend you," Snow attempted to remedy whatever it was that she had caused.

Ravenna's hand leisurely came up from her lap, palm up and fingers lazily extended to cup Snow's chin. The fifteen-year-old shivered from fear and the electricity that ran through her veins at the junction between her jaw and the skin of the satin hand touching it. Melted emeralds held her eyes as her face was raised from its shell of hair until the candlelight chased away the remaining shadows along her cheeks and the hollows of her eye cavities.

"You did nothing," the softness of the voice compounded with the warmth seeping into her from the hands that had appeared so lifeless before caused Snow's eyelids to flutter closed, leaving only a small gap between her eyelashes so she was still able to see the Queen as she let the horrible smile fall away. Snow strained to here the whispered continuation of Ravenna's thought, "It has been a long time since I have heard someone speak those words."

Snow waited, anticipating that there was more to her companion's reaction, an underlying memory that birthed such dislike for the simple ritual. The trepidation behind Ravenna's eyes was made apparent by the way her body tightened reflexively. Her hand slid out from under Snow, tracing along her neck before returning to its mistress's skirts where its fingers twirled with the material in an absentminded nervous tick. Though she felt a pang of loss with the break of contact, Snow schooled her features to keep the mildly concerned look. She felt that worry would be more welcome than the abnormal desire curling in her stomach, especially when Ravenna seemed to be wrestling with something inside of herself.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, the blonde motioned toward the forgotten fork, "Eat. I would not want the food to grow cold whilst you listen."

Though food was the last thing on her mind at the moment, Snow did as she was bid. The second the fish hit her tongue, the girl's stomach reasserted itself in her priorities. Etiquette and religious motions forgotten, she began to practically inhale everything within an arm's distance. Her eyes never left Ravenna despite her vigorous intake of the feast.

"When I was a young girl, perhaps close to the age you were when we first met each other, I lived in a small village. We were nomadic, living where there was fertile land and plentiful hunting. My mother was a revered medicinal woman; she could cure most anything with the knowledge given to her by our ancestors," tears pricked the corners of Ravenna's eyes. Snow felt torn between sitting still and reaching across the gap between herself and the Queen with a comforting touch. She was uncertain as to how Ravenna would take such a gesture, so she continued with the few bits of food remaining on her plate. "We held to the Old Ways, Pagan was the name we were given by the Roman kings that took possession of the land. Their ways were not the ways of the Goddess we worshipped, nor any of the other gods who were infused with the land and our blood. They prayed to another, the One God and his son. The priests coming and going could be heard singing their hymns in honor of the sacrifices this man had done.

"We were wary, but our people moved too often to be bothered by the missionaries and they were happy enough leaving us 'savages' alone. It was not until winter that I came to know the Roman god. The months of snow and ice were harsher that year than they had been for longer than I had been alive. We were forced to settle in a small valley made by a dried shallow lake. Everything was white; the sky, the forest, the mountains except for small patches of black where the granite struck out too sharply for the snow to land. They came out of the mist. With their dark horses and leather armor, smelling of blood and fear," Ravenna's eyes had become near obsidian, creating the mirage of two large pupils and no muscle between the white and the abyss of her inner soul. Her body shook lightly, looking like water that had been newly disturbed, but her voice kept calm and level, as though she were recounting an event that had befallen some stranger. "His crown was made of bronze, though it had tarnished to the point that it did not shine and looked just as dull as the wool cape wrapped around his broad shoulders. He was big, a bearded giant riding an even bigger destrier.

"Some ran, but they were cut down easily by the riders. No man can outrun a horse, and for certain cannot defend himself against steel when without a weapon. My mother did not run. She held me in her arms as she slid the dagger across my palm," Ravenna held her hand up, facing Snow so that she could just barely make out a hairline scar running across the otherwise flawless skin. "'Your beauty is all that can save you Ravenna,' I remember her saying, 'This spell will make your beauty your power and protection.'"

Snow was captivated. The fear held in the memory was palpable, sharp as a sword. Her heartbeat mirrored the Queen's, the blood curling at the center of their chests in a mighty pressure as Snow watched the dreamlike film over the Witch's eyes pull back. Light reflected off of the jade ingots of Ravenna's irises as they returned to their usual size and the blackness within them waned.

"By fairest blood it was done," Ravenna murmured, half to herself, as she sat back, exhausted against her chair.

"He took you and your brother away," Snow knew it was so, but she felt that only by hearing it come from Ravenna's lips would the story be truly complete.

"And wed me to him, once I had come of age," Ravenna affirmed. But I learned of my powers soon after that, and I swore that I would avenge the death of my mother and of my people."

Snow looked down at her plate. She wanted to cry for the broken woman sitting to her left, but she also wanted to scream bloody murder at the unfairness of it all. Ravenna had lost her family, but had it truly made it right when the Queen had come to steal Snow's. She had lost both her father and her mother, less than a season apart. Pity and rage welled up within her, battling for dominance over her heart until it felt close to bursting.

Her appetite had vanished over the course of the Queen's story and Snow's own mixed feelings about it. She twirled the fork between her napkin and her pointer finger, hoping that the silence fallen between them be broken, but also afraid to be the one to break it. A servant appeared from a door hidden in the wall to take the empty plates from them. Just as he was reaching for the boar, the Witch's hand struck out in a halting gesture. Her voice was sharp, nearly causing the man to lose his footing and drop the platters stacked precariously on his right hand.

"Leave the apple," she said. The fruit was plucked out of the jaws of the swine and put delicately on an embroidered kerchief which had been underneath the heavy dish holding the main course. Ravenna turned her attention back to her guest, motioning to the red delicacy, "It is one of the few that still grow on the tree within the castle. It is yours, if you want it."

Snow looked at the small, imperfect orb. It was big, but still smaller than the ones that had grown when her mother, the late Queen, had still lived. But, with her death, everything else seemed to lose much of its vigor, so Snow had not expected anything else. Still, the look of the apple was almost too much for her; images of William and the fragile pink and white blossoms falling around them in the springs of her early years, when she had not known what cold and darkness were and every day seemed a gift from above.

"No," the word was said rather harshly and the girl was quick to amend it with a polite, "Thank you."

If the Queen was in any way disappointed, she did not let on. She stood, primly, the layers of her shift swirling around the length of her legs in sweeping porcelain folds. Her hand beckoned, indicating that Snow should do the same. She inwardly cringed at the prospect of having to abandon the small stirring freedom she had been given, her heart shrinking as she pictured the grey stone walls that silenced all trace of color and life from her prison. A glimmer of hope swelled in her chest as they turned down a corridor that most certainly did not lead to the northern section of the castle. Her footsteps grew lighter with each twist they took away from the offending stairway leading up and up into the gloomy reaches of the dungeons. And then they deadened. Before her, kept tidy and clean but otherwise completely unchanged, was her bedroom. Snow did not understand why Ravenna had deemed it important enough to even remember which quarters had belonged to her all those years ago, but to have the place cared for and preserved was beyond surprising.

"You can sleep here tonight, and if you do not try to run, tomorrow night and the nights following as well."

Before Snow could speak a word, Ravenna turned and began the arduous navigation of the mazelike halls to find her own lodgings, leaving the stunned brunette alone. The torches dimmed with the Queen's retreat, leaving Snow standing in a sort of autumn twilight. Her eyes flickered away from the spot where the blonde woman had been before turning a corner and disappearing from sight to the grand four-poster bed that she had once slept in. The sheets smelled of fresh spring flowers even though it was late fall, and were woven with gold lace to contrast the earthly greens and browns of the linens and comforter. Her hand traced the curtains tied against the smooth wood. Their fabric was light so as not to conceal the morning's arrival, but thick enough to keep the chill and bugs away were she to forget to close the large paneled windows across the room. An empty closet sat against the side opposite the bed, missing her old dresses, but otherwise as familiar as her own face. A solitary moth laconically flew from the shadows of the wizened wood, drifting through the room until it found the door and proceeded out toward the lights of the corridor. Snow took one of the torches and found a matching pair of candlesticks on two bureaus set up next to the head of the bed. She then returned the fiery stick to its brazier and settled on the shapeless goose-feather mattress. Her thoughts lingered lightly on the state of her clothing, but sleep soon overtook them and she curled up in the sheets, dirt and grime and all, for the most gratifying rest she had experienced in almost a decade.

**P.S. I hope to update regularly though the schedule depends on how quickly I can revise the chapters. Leave me a review, even if it is to tell me how bad you think this story is. Criticisms lead to better writing after all. 'Til next time.**


	2. Of Desires and Despair

**A/N: Hello lovely readers. Here is chapter 2 of what I think will be a four or five chapter story. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the wonderful feedback. It really inspires me to get these chapters out to you faster. Reviews are much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing.**

Half a year had gone by since the evening of Snow's rebirth into the world- that was what she liked to call the fated night when Ravenna had come to find her in the dark crypt. Now, with her soul exhumed and her body finally starting to bear the hints of life in the faint darkening of her skin under the sun's light and the recession of the dark circles under her eyes, she could look forward to every waking hour while also not dreading the wings of nightmares in the evening darkness. Never would she have believed it if someone had come to her a year past and told her that she would once again know what it was to smile and breathe without the oppressive claustrophobia of the tiny dungeon cell. The first two or three months, she had woken in cold sweats with her heart hammering only to find that it had not all been some tormenting dream. The sheets of her bed smelled of her a few weeks after that. Then _She_ came again.

Snow had never ceased hating the solitude that pervaded the room despite the obvious comforts the cell in the North Tower lacked. The books which had been laid on the small writing table, hidden in the corner by a small brick landing housing a quaint fireplace, were quickly consumed to assuage the ennui gnawing at her idle mind. She had tried her hand at writing a letter or a diary, but she had no one to send the former to and too little happening to contemplate the latter. The past was too painful to put onto paper so the crisp parchment and ink bottle stayed unused. It was the third day after Snow found a small stash of charcoal in the corner of the miniature hearth and decided to exercise her imagination through crude drawings that were closer to the rough scribbles of a child than anything signifying a figment of her musings that she was blessed with a visit from her benefactor.

The tightness in her chest at the sight of the Queen garbed in a black and green frock was as painful and welcome as the woman herself. It was a simple enough dress; the body of it was the color of pine in summer, crisp with the sun's rays. The black lace tightened the waistline and crisscrossed up the bodice until it straightened out just below the evergreen fabric ended. The opening was low enough to show the top of Ravenna's breasts, glittering with a smattering of golden flakes which had fallen from the ribbons twined in her hair. The black satin was well contrasted with the yellow of the hair it held up and the rivulets of gold dust running along the edges in two little streams. The Queen had skimped on the adornments, wearing only a small ring of gold and diamond on her right index finger and a chain of a matching kind. The diamonds hanging against the soft skin flecked it with squares of rainbow whenever the sunlight streaming in from the open windows hit them. Even in the generic gown, Snow could not keep herself from staring and memorizing every curve and shade and milky beauty that defined Ravenna. She felt a peasant in her earthly brown vest and men's trousers that had been given to her on request by one of the maids that came and went twice each day. Now the younger girl greatly regretted refusing the original wardrobe of silk and velvet finery that had been brought in for her.

"M-my Queen," the words should have been a mockery, but they felt so right slipping from Snow's mouth. Even though the castle had been Snow's home nearly as long as the Witch, Ravenna held a presence around her that demanded obedience if not complete allegiance. The girl scrambled up from her seat where she had been scrawling another series of disconnected lines and circles. Her cheeks were stained red in their traitorous self-consciousness, but Snow kept her eyes on the Queen's face nevertheless. Unable to lie to herself, she acquiesced that she had indeed missed the company of the enigmatic woman.

The tinkling bells of Ravenna's laughter rang out in the otherwise quiet room. Snow took an unconscious step back, trying frantically to remember the courtesies she had been taught as a child. Being the daughter of the former king and queen did nothing to help her in such circumstances. It had been the nobles who had addressed her parents formally; she had simply run at them in her childish disregard.

"Humble," Ravenna noted. "I must admit, hearing you call me that is both flattering and completely abominable. To you, I will be Ravenna and to me, you will be Snow. Would that we should get to know one another as more than prisoner and captor, yes?"

Snow balked. Her voice carried low as she twirled the name on her tongue, "Ravenna." It tasted sweet and so familiar.

"I like the sound of my name with your voice," the Queen had come to stand nearer to Snow. The former princess gulped as the faint scent of honey and milk entered her nose and overwhelmed her olfactory nerves. Ravenna leaned in to Snow until they were only an inch or two apart and Snow could feel the breath of the older woman against her cheek. Her frame was stiff as a rod, but she thoughtlessly tilted her head closer to the soft skin of the Queen's lips.

"I must say, I cannot make out what it is you drew," Snow registered the words but not their meaning. _'Drew,' such a lovely word,_ she thought. Her eyes flicked down to the pink outline of Ravenna's mouth. 'Drew.' Those invitingly supple lips were the epitome of magnetizing and Snow could not stop herself from being drawn in.

A shift of fabric came to replace the blossoming rose petals adorning the Queen's lower face knocking Snow from her comatose state. Taking a few moments to return to herself, Snow saw that Ravenna had bent over to pick up the slip of paper that she had been bending over all morning with nothing more than a maze of nonsense to show for it. The comment finally sunk in as Snow watched the blonde woman straighten her spine and hold the scrawl aloft.

"Th-that's not really-" Snow forgot how to speak. The words turned to mulch in her throat as she searched for an explanation. Anything to make the Queen put down the cluttered mess she had created in her boredom. Her tongue tied itself in knots, only furthering her mortification, "I w-was… it's not really a dr-drawing. Doodle."

Ravenna was visibly taking great enjoyment in Snow's predicament as she continued to trace one of the longer looping lines that looked like the beginning of a bird's wings before tapering off into the entropy of the other pieces of charcoal. Smirking, she placed her hand under her chin and studiously questioned, "Were you attempting a new medium of the abstract?"

Snow blushed furiously; Ravenna had to wonder whether the girl would faint from all of the blood congregating in her head. Snow darted a hand out, snatching at the offending parchment only to find that it was not where it had been a moment before. Ravenna arched her eyebrow in a mischievous fashion, holding the paper securely to her chest. Snow's abashed frown turned into one set with determination as she lunged for her drawing again. Ravenna lifted her arm in the air and Snow practically broke her ankle veering away from the imminent contact with the Queen's well-endowed body. Her hands swung frantically for balance as the tip of her slipper caught on a leg of the chair she had pushed to one side upon Ravenna's entrance. She was steadied by a strong arm wrapping itself around the crook of her elbow. The momentum brought her up but it also turned her to come face to face with a beaming Ravenna. The surprise in her eyes made the Queen chortle before she let Snow go and gracefully made some distance between them.

Snow glanced wistfully at the slightly crumpled sheet in Ravenna's hand before she figured that there was no way she would best the older woman. Changing tactics, she petulantly held her right hand outstretched in the general direction of her devilish companion, "May I have that back… Please!"

Much as Ravenna took pleasure in tormenting the peeved girl, she knew when it was time to leave Snow alone. She did not wish to annoy the girl to the point of the game losing its endearment. Sulking, she sluggishly lowered the parchment onto Snow's expectant hand, making sure to press her fingers into the palm so as to exaggerate the thin film that kept their flesh from meeting. The half-lidded look Snow was giving to her fingers as they slid away from the paper was enough to give away that it had worked splendidly.

Whatever force had made its home in Snow's lungs at the moment Ravenna's nails and the tips of her fingers sunk against the paper that had been the source of Snow's grief, it knocked all of the air from them in a heady exhale. She closed her fist over the black scrawl and white fibrous parchment, careful not to break the barrier between her skin and Ravenna's in the process. Once she had a secure grip, she slid her arm back, watching, transfixed, as Ravenna's hand fell limply to her side and was lost among the folds of her dress. She took no time at all in crumpling the drawing as soon as she remembered how to do it, lightly chucking it in the small waste container to be picked up some time that evening before she fell asleep. She wanted to keep her eyes glued to her feet, or the carpet, or the little speck of dirt lining the feather pen lying on the polished wood of the desk. She tried to keep her pupils from the gravitational pull exuded by the Queen, but her curiosity got the better of her. Green met green and they stayed transfixed upon one another for a good while before the Queen finally spoke to break the silence between them, "I came to ask if your accommodations are to your liking."

It was such a casual statement, but Snow's heart quickened at the prospect of Ravenna taking a care in her comfort, if not her happiness. Her dry larynx was full of dust, yet she managed to speak out a quick confirmation, "It is like when I was a child."

Only, it really wasn't and they both seemed to sense it. The room may have been identical, the sun shining as it had almost nine years ago, but the people were gone and the palace was cold and lonely save for the servants and the guards. Snow's mother was gone and so was her father, the latter because of Ravenna herself. The Queen did not feel remorse for the man, but her heart stopped at the sadness that lingered in the corners of Snow's lips and the tips of her eyelashes. She had never been any good with apologies, nor did she really know where to start were she to try.

Snow could see the flickers of inner discord crinkle the smooth, proud brow of the Witch and she wondered at the current emotions she herself was experiencing. Ravenna was supposed to be her enemy, despite the kindnesses she had afforded the younger girl over the recent months. Ravenna deserved none of the sentimentality that bubbled to the surface, forcing Snow to the brink of embracing the broken beauty and soothing the cold fires raging underneath the pristine shell. Sympathy remained, however, especially on the nights when Snow could not sleep and she lay awake, remembering the story of the little girl who had been torn from her mother's arms and forsaken to live with the grief of it all. Snow had not asked how old the Witch Queen was on the night she had last seen her; she had not asked any of the servants either due in part equally to her doubt in their knowledge and the personal nature of the question. She knew the woman was older than the twenty and however many years she looked. Her eyes had given up that much. Nor had Snow sought to find out how it was that Ravenna kept her appearance as unchanging as the sea crashing below. There was darkness corroding the inner sanctum of Ravenna's soul. Snow wanted so badly to reach in and pull the fledgling light and show it to the lost Queen; to show her that she was still human, disregarding all of the blood and pain and corruption. Was it wrong of her to so want to save the one who was least deserving of such salvation? Or was it perfect that she was to be the one?

_"I feel that you and I are bound."_

_Bound._

"Walk with me," Ravenna beckoned toward the door that had stood ajar throughout their entire exchange. Snow wavered slightly, craving the underlying hesitancy in the commanding tone. Fragility suited Ravenna almost as much as power did. The butterflies ate away at Snow's stomach lining as she slipped her hand through the opening between the Queen's waist and her bent elbow. Their arms locked together in perfect synchronicity, as though they were made to fit one another.

The gardens were less than they had been under the meticulous care of Snow White's mother, but the flowers bloomed nonetheless. Roses of crimson and yellow and pink and white turned their petals to the sun so as to attract the scant bees buzzing through the greenery. In truth there was more hedge than blossoms, but Snow was hardly paying attention to the flora. Her hand toyed with a loose string from her garment as she moved at a slow gate, matching Ravenna's. She had caught herself accidently picking at the loose sleeve of the soft coat the Queen had thrown on before their emergence onto the castle grounds, but the blonde did not seem to have noticed. There was really no reason to hurry, but the girl found herself restless besides. Clouds had gathered overhead and the deep grey threatened of rain. Springs were always wet in the kingdom, though autumn was no different and summer was only slightly drier. The grass had begun to creep between the crack of the old stone pathways, nature overgrowing what had been left untended and forgotten. The blades looked faded, less green than she recalled from her childhood, but as she walked along, those in her immediate area seemed to pick themselves up from their drooped sodden states and regain a clearer coloration. Then again, she was probably just imaging it. The stone fountain that had once spewed water from its zenith now lay in ruin, cracked and worn from the water and lack of repair. Snow was saddened, but only because of the thoughts it brought with it; thoughts of her mother.

"You do not frequent the gardens?" Snow wondered aloud. The Queen looked over the expanse of vegetation, taking in the small evergreen trees which had once held perfect spiral forms but now grew wildly with branches breaking the pattern at the whim of the trees' growth and the rustling leaves that hid the sharp thorns of the rose bushes lining the walk. Thoughtfully she reached out and plucked a young crimson bloom, not yet unfurled all the way.

"No," Ravenna carefully placed the rose to rest against Snow's ear, held in place by her tangled ebony hair. "I never understood those people who could sit for hours in these places marveling the fleeting beauty of these blossoms."

"I think it's the fact that the blossoms will eventually die that fascinates people," Snow mused, forgetting her shyness as she measured her words for the best possible explanation. "One can never know how long they will stay like this, so one tries to take in as much of the beauty before it is gone."

Ravenna snorted, "All of that, you see in these flowers?"

"My mother told me that I was born because of a flower," Snow murmured. Ravenna's rapt attention was on her, cajoling her to elaborate, "She said that the winter before my birth, she had been walking in this garden and she saw a rose, blooming in defiance of the cold. When she went to touch it, she pricked her finger on a thorn, and as she looked at the blood drops on the snow, she prayed for a child with the strength of that rose… or so she used to tell me."

The story had been one of her favorites as a young girl; she must have forced her mother to tell it to her a hundred times, but the former Queen had only smiled and acquiesced whilst tucking Snow into her bed. She had not realized that tears had started to run down her cheeks until a soft touch wiped one away with the slightest gesture. Her face must have looked absurd, eyes watery and red from the salty water droplets and her mouth opened to inhale the crisp ocean air in a failing attempt at calming herself. Ravenna ran the back of her hand up Snow's cheek, capturing the stray tears as they fell until she reached the tips of Snow's lower lashes. Snow moved toward the comforting warmth, wishing that she did not look so weak in front of the Queen. But still, she wept and soon the sobs were not only in her eyes but wracking her whole body until she felt that her legs could not sustain her anymore. Fortunately, Ravenna had no intentions of letting her fall. Her arms held the shaking girl close, rubbing her back until the violent shudders calmed to hiccoughs. The coat of gold trim and green wool slipped from the Queen's shoulders and came to rest over Snow's body, making her look as small as she felt, before Snow was once again engulfed in the warmth that was Ravenna's embrace. They came to sit on the rim of the stone fountain. The smoothness of the parapet which had once kept the water from spilling over was broken by fissures where the granite was worn or chipped. Ravenna took care to find a spot where the foundation was strong and there was no danger of the fountain crumbling and dumping them both on the damp, cold ground.

"I-I'm s-sorry," Snow gasped, inhaling and exhaling in bursts as her diaphragm recovered itself.

"No need to apologize child," Ravenna cooed. Her voice had never been as soft as it was then, making Snow feel protected if nothing else. "Your life has not been one without its trials."

What went unspoken between the two women was the biting truth that Ravenna had only exacerbated what had already been a difficult time in Snow's childhood. It was not necessary for it to be given life in wasted breath. All of Ravenna's magic could not change the past; none of it could bring back the dead mothers of either Witch or Snow and all of the sentiment in the world could not give Snow back her father. They were two broken things, much like the fountain. All Snow could hope for was the future; all Ravenna could hope was for Snow to teach her how to find a future worth hoping for.

~o()o~

Ravenna began visiting Snow more often after that. Some ventures were long, frequently composed of strolls amongst the gardens and watching the seasons change the foliage and the younger girl as the days made her blossom more beautifully than any rose. Ravenna had made it a habit of plucking a vermillion flower at each outing and placing it in Snow's hair so as to see which blossom was stronger. Snow enjoyed the teasing, mockingly asking whether Ravenna planned to strip the garden of all of the red roses by the beginning of summer. Other visits had been brief; flutters of conversation or rushed breakfasts during which Snow felt a tug on her heart every time Ravenna excused herself early because of some business or other. Still, even the briefest instances of interaction the young girl shared with her captor turned- she did not quite know what label to put on the fledgling relationship she had somehow sown with Ravenna- were enough to satiate a part of Snow that she had thought would forever be empty. The intense attraction she felt toward the older woman was completely new territory and each passing encounter only served to further her curiosity and frustration when all of their conversations ended all too soon and the unfounded dissatisfaction settled back in Snow's stomach. She could not have begun to comprehend the peculiar tingling that infectiously spread from her lower abdomen to fill her body with electric prickles each time the Queen happened to brush their hands together or the space between them lessened as they sat beside one another by the ruins of the fountain. She wondered what her mother might have thought on the subject, wishing she was not completely alone in having to deal with the bouts of unwarranted desperation each time she caught a hint of honey and milk on the tip of her nose. It was foolish, she knew. That was the main reason why she never brought the feelings up to Ravenna herself.

On cool nights when her eyes refused to close, Snow stared long past her blackened curtains into the face of the marble moon and wonder whether it was love and adoration that she was feeling. She had forgotten what those two words meant, though she vaguely remembered the welcome comfort her heart attributed to the presence of her parents and William when she had been a small girl. What she experienced with Ravenna was different in its subtleties, but the subconscious foundation was the same: passionate protectiveness of the time she spent near the woman who so captivated her. The difficulty lay with the reluctance Snow felt in associating her urges with something more akin to lust than childish love for a peer. She could not lie to herself when her heart rate increased exponentially any time Ravenna's dress dipped a centimeter below what modesty allowed for; all of the instances when she caught her gaze lingering on the silken expanse of skin stretching from the slope of the Queen's neck to the slight protrusion of her collarbone. She hated the traitorous dreams of touching and being touched in a less than innocent manner. She was not some hormonally charged pervert; especially not when she could still see the hungered glances the brother had given her with his ghostly pale face peering through the bars of her cell those many months ago.

Those were the visits she hated the most. The ones where the Queen's brother joined them. Snow knew the bond the two shared was strong; they had been the other's crutch, the only familiar face amidst a sea of peril, for however many years it had been since the raid on their village. That knowledge did nothing to keep her skin from crawling with each look he gave her. Snow repeatedly convinced herself that Ravenna would protect her from the man, would keep her for herself as she had always done, and there was never any evidence of the contrary. Finn knew he could not touch the girl, his sister's little pet princess, so he sufficed with the fleeting glances and the occasional word. Despite it all, Snow was less able to ignore the lecherous light in his eyes with each passing encounter. Still, life went on and she sufficed with the happy snippets she could garner, even the ones tainted by the loss of privacy amongst Finn. She could have been living in a dream; the nights where she had awoken in a cold sweat having dreamt of it all disappearing to be replaced by the cold, hard bitterness of the stone keep had diminished but never completely stopped. And as in a dream, there was a certain point in time when she would have to leave the glow of the ethereal and come back to the harsh reality that pervaded life.

It was the night of her birthday. The candles flickered down to their wicks but the Princess was all alone in her gossamer bed, twining her hair between her fingers in an irritated manner. The Queen had been nowhere in sight the entirety of the morning and afternoon, not even taking the time to drop in and give a polite "Happy birthday" before disappearing to do whatever it was that kept her so damn busy all the bloody time. Her hand jerked in mild irritation, painfully pulling the multitude of twisted strands along with it. Snow silently fumed, her mind running a million scenarios that could have explained what in the hell Ravenna was doing that could have been so important as to leave Snow all alone on her sixteenth birthday. She had gotten an entire awkward feast with the woman the year previous, and sixteen was a far more important age than fifteen… at least, Snow figured it was. It was also the anniversary of her newfound freedom and the friendship she had kindled with the elusive monarch. Only, that must not have been how Ravenna interpreted it; shown plainly by the lack of attendance to even a minute of the entire day.

Snow wrestled with her sheets, fighting to keep a level head and ineffectively muttering complaints of her foolishness for being so clingy. She was absolutely not the center of Ravenna's universe, though the Witch had effortlessly slid into the position of the sun in Snow's tiny solar system. Snow simply had to accept that Ravenna would eventually come with some worthy cause for her absence and the gnawing jealousy in the pit of Snow's belly would settle itself.

Another wasted century and the candles completely went out, drowned in the last of the wax as it solidified from its heated liquid into a hard lump hidden in the shadows that reigned where the light had once shown. Obviously, she would not be getting anything close to sleep in the ensuing hours until dawn, so the restless adolescent drew up her legs and flung them haphazardly over the edge of the four-poster. Her slippers, softened ermine furs and leather lacing, enveloped her feet in their welcome embrace. She treasured them much as she treasured all of the gifts Ravenna had bestowed her, but their usefulness came with their ability to make close to nothing in the way of noise as she moved through the midnight corridors of the castle. She knew not where she was going, though the corridors started morphing into a map within her head, all paths leading to the room where a certain golden-haired beauty surely lay dormant.

Snow had almost reached the heavy, oaken double doors which opened into the silent chambers of the Queen when her eyes were taken by another room. It was mostly hidden from view, but a slight crack in the door allowed Snow an arrow slit's glance inside. She tentatively reached a hand to grip the side of the door's frame, pushing slowly to make sure it would not creak and wake someone. The hinges were well oiled and remained quiet as she widened the gap to a suitable size that would allow her to slip through. She left it open slightly, as it had been before, feeling slightly wary of leaving herself closed off and alone in the high-ceilinged space.

It was truly expansive. The wall opposite her was lined with windows, tall and looming over her head. Teardrop glass panels were framed in a circular design to her right and left, giving the room the look of an old cathedral, but no saints adorned the plain filters closing the room from the chill of the autumn night. In the center of the room was a vast, emptied bath. The perimeter, walls, and floor were made of light crème tile while two griffin gargoyles stood, with sharpened beaks wide, facing the center of the crater. Thin streaks of white liquid trickled down the polished stone sculptures, betraying their purpose as more than mere guardians to the bath, but the suppliers of its contents. Tall, dark iron candleholders rose before her, two to each side of the long perimeters of the depression in the floor, but there was no fire to cast light on the expansive bath. The only illumination was the chalky whiteness of the full moon's glow, pouring in past the window panes and filling the alcoves of room with its own illusion of the fluid that still slid past the talons of the griffins and down the drain in the center of the expansive tub.

The hairs on the back of Snow's neck prickled, her inner instinct reacting to the strong magnetism pervading the space. There was magic in the room. Her father and mother had been less than pious, the latter more so than the former, but she still remembered the rhymes and fables warning against the black arts of demons which compelled little children to fall victim to the heretic charms of strange devils. The energy building within the cold stone walls felt like a writhing dragon, chained for the time being, waiting for the inevitable return of its power and the day when its bindings would turn to ash. And her heart raced as her body quelled under the immense power channeling into the center of the chamber, pooling into a miasma in the base of the bath until the moonlight became almost a solid, tangible thing and the silver streams of enchantment became visible to the naked eye. The sight scared her; any sane human being would have fled. She turned, coming face to face with two luminous obsidian eyes. Her mouth let out a rather sad squeak, her tongue freezing in a similar manner to the rest of the muscles in her body. The two ravens loomed over her frame, heads bent low in contrast to their spread wings- ebony tips pointed directly to the dark ceiling. Claws of silver to match the pointed beaks gripped the columns upon which they stood, shimmering and casting streaks of reflected light down to touch the folds of Snow's nightdress. The frightened girl took one step back, then another. Slow trepidation turned to urgency as her legs finally warmed with the flow of adrenaline and blood.

Snow's feet flitted over the cool floor, unadorned by rugs or carpet, until her hands made contact- quite violently so- with the transparent crystal of the large panes of glass to the far side of the door she had come through. Her hands clasped at the black iron frames, relishing in the feel of something real when her eyes were still filled with the distortions caused by the unexpected surge of elemental energy. The moon's beams colored the courtyard below her light grey and porcelain. The height of the room caused a sense of vertigo to rush over her, dropping her to her knees as her body fought to keep the Earth from spinning too quickly.

Breathing became easier with time and the revolutions of the planet regained their gradual pace, leveling to the calmness of the silver night. Bleary green eyes surveyed the landscape below, illuminated in a grey scale that melded the buildings with the cobblestone street and made every flame appear like a will-o-wisp. Pupils dilated to make up for the subpar lighting, but even past the stretching shadows, Snow could still see the forms of unfortunates wandering the dirty streets. Her mouth dropped as she watched a filthy pile of rags shift, sliding its way over to sit under an opened window shutter. A skeleton arm fell limply to the side of the soiled cloth, its pale fingers curling around some possession that was no longer there for it to hold before the digits lost the ability to keep their position and fell open. Two men- guards by the looks of the armor they wore- came out of the building, roaring drunk. One stumbled over the ghost of a man and let out a howl of anger before mercilessly falling upon the unfortunate wretch. His companion was quick to follow suit until the wooden planks of the building's landing turned a darker shade of charcoal and the figure no longer moved in an attempt to shield its head or body. Across the street, a woman with a bundle balanced in the crook of her arm held a dirty bucket under a stone gargoyle, trying to gather the measly drip of milk falling from the hideous maw of the cold, lifeless creature. Her hands shook from the exertion of keeping the circle of wood bound by iron in the air. Her body was skin and bones; even her face, though poorly in focus, stood out as more of a skull than an expressive visage. Her body shook and the bucket clattered to the ground, barely spilling even a drop due to its original, empty state. The woman cried out, the sound muffled by the thick panes of glass, but there was no one to answer her calls of sorrow. The babe she caressed fell to the stones as well, rolling a ways down the curvature of the street; once it settled, there was no further movement.

Snow's eyes dripped with moisture, her mouth gone completely dry. She looked down at the fine silks adorning her own, well-nourished body, and felt the tell-tale signs of bile rising up her throat. Her fingers clawed at the material, tearing the expensive lace until nails bit into flesh. Snow could not think about all of the comforts she had experienced over the past year without being sick. She had strolled down halls paved with silver and gold, eaten at table so laden with food that she would not have been able to finish the courses if she lived two hundred years, and all the while her people had starved.

Had this been the reason that Ravenna had been so against her going outside of the inner chambers of the castle? She had not wished for Snow to see what the eight years under her reign had done to the common people. Anger flashed hot and torrid, but it was soon gone; in its place, sadness dropped its immense weight on Snow's shaking shoulders. Her eyes flickered back to the desolate streets, noting the dearth and poverty and rancidness that washed over the decrepit little houses and their residents in waves of oppressiveness. The ermine fur slippers fell from her feet leaving Snow's skin prickling with the biting cold of the tile. The tears spilled forth, warm against her eyelashes and cool on her cheeks, then frozen as they hit the floor.

She had no way of knowing how long she stayed there, huddled against the glass windows, too afraid to look outside and become overwhelmed again. It must have been hours though because the sky's blackness began to shift toward the deep indigo and then fuchsia that preceded dawn. When Snow was finally able to find the strength to get up, the stiffness in her joints nearly caused her to fall back into a huddled ball. With the support of a nearby candleholder, she was finally erect, though her legs- and everything else- were too numb to respond to her brain's commands until another ten shaky breathes. The pads of her feet were silent as she hurriedly ran through the raven statues standing guard and tore down the corridor to the door at the end. The oak gave way easily, though Snow's arms burned with the effort; they felt like such cold, dead things. Her amber-flecked, emerald eyes fell upon the slender outline of the grand four-poster's occupant, feeling the rise of conflicting emotions bring renewed salty tears to trace along her flushed cheeks. She could not decide whether she wanted to strangle the woman or beg for the warmth of her embrace; whether to drive the blade of the wicked, curved knife the Queen always kept by her bed through the charred heart of the Witch or press her face into the older woman's chest and listen for the reassurance that said heart was still beating.

"Snow?" her name was whispered with the heaviness of one who was still partially immersed in a dream. The grogginess was not something Snow would have expected of the Queen; she had always been regal and collected around the younger girl- even when they were alone and the barriers between them were far and fewer. The fragility of it, the pure vulnerability of the blonde, was enough to tear away all forms of doubt. Automatically, Snow's body responded to the summons. Her frame crashed into the softness of the goose-feather comforter, hands pulling at covers until they found pliable flesh. She needed to feel the closeness of another human, needed the reassurance that not all in the world was dark and cadaverous. The irony that such a comfort was to be found in the arms of the source of all of the land's sickness was not lost upon the young girl, but she could not be bothered to care at the moment. All that mattered was Ravenna's presence and the centered feeling she encouraged in Snow's heart.

"What has happened?" the worry weighed heavily upon the Queen as her mind immersed itself into real life, pulling her away from the nightmares she had long ago learned to master. Her arms wrapped themselves around the quivering, warm body of the distraught girl sobbing against her. A wild fire raged within her soul, roaring bloody promises for the ones responsible for the wetness soaking into her nightgown.

"Th-the… faces… th-they…" Snow stuttered unintelligibly, pulling closer to the cool skin of Ravenna. And then the scent hit her. Milk and honey, just like the chamber she had escaped. Her sobs turned into whimpers as hands that had, moments ago, pulled closer to the older woman now shifted to push her away with urgency. The forceful shove the former princess gave came as an unexpected surprise to the fully awakened Queen, freezing her with her arms pressed on the mattress behind her back where they had come to keep her from falling. Staring at her with unbridled guilt and a flash of pungent fear was not the girl she had come to know over the past year, but the frightened child of seven just after everything had been taken from her by fire and blood. And it was a look that rent the deadened heart of the ancient Witch in two.

"Faces?" she questioned, reaching up to cup the tender, young cheek in her palm. When Snow did not immediately recoil from the touch, a breath escaped the Queen's lungs which she had not been aware of keeping in. Gently scooting herself up and draping a sheet over Snow's shoulders to keep the chill at bay, Ravenna softly prodded for an answer, "Help me understand what ails you, my sweet."

Snow's eyes flickered to her toes, bare and slightly numb from running along the icy stone corridors but quickly gathering warmth from the satin and wool beneath her toes. She did not wish to sound accusing, still unsure of how the Queen would react to an aggressive reprimand. Still, her people were dying, and though she had not been their Princess for many years, Snow felt their pain as if it were her own. Her heart trembled under their sorrows. Yet, Ravenna had stolen a substantial piece all for herself and the thought of losing the woman's affections was like a hot poker piercing her chest. The rift was more than Snow could bear, tearing at her veins and separating her cardiac muscle until she could no longer even pray for it to go away.

"Snow?"

"I saw them," she whispered, no more than a hushed exhale of air. Amber-flecked green met regal emerald and the flames within burned hot and cold but neither fell submissively in the wake of the other. And Snow quaked inside but her voice was level and strong, "I saw my people outside; starving… begging… dying."

Ravenna's hand dropped from its caress, falling limply to the bed. Her entire body seemed to have aged one hundred years in a single moment. Snow searched the serpentine green depths of the Witch's eyes, hoping for a hint of remorse or, at the very least, a sense of her moral obligation to pity the poor wretches the residents of the castle and village had become. There was only a hardened lack of sympathy accompanied with the quiet of Ravenna's hollow, weak heartbeat.

Snow licked her lips, drawing on the quickly receding strength she had mustered for her next statement, "I cannot live in such luxury, sleeping in warmth and eating rich delicacies, whilst I know that my people are living in squalor."

Darkness passed over Ravenna's face, her eyes turning cobalt in the long shadows that transformed her fine features into something ghoulish. Snow's heart quickened, pumping adrenaline through her system until her body was wound tight with the repressed urge to flee from the Witch's wrath. Ravenna's reply was level but biting like frost, "They are not _your_ people anymore. And as such, their wellbeing is _none_ of your concern."

The blow hit Snow harder than any physical attack. Her skin crawled from the memories of her prison cell resurfacing; for what had those words meant but that she was still a prisoner in her own castle. She had come to believe that the Queen had come to view her as a free person; that she had been set free to live and smile with the beautiful Witch as the semblance of normalcy became the comforting glow of familiarity and, eventually, happiness. Now, the former Princess shuddered at having found that, though her life had come to be adorned with gold and finery, it was little more than a gilded cage where once it had been one of iron and loneliness. She felt afraid, unsure of how she should react to such a striking revelation, but she had learned to love her silken chains over the course of the year. Looking past the water brimming along her lashes, at the marble face of the regal blonde watching her with calculating wariness, Snow could sense the last drops of her rebellion drip away with the tears. Her heart was torn, but Ravenna had captured too much of it for Snow to defy her any longer.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just didn't want to watch them suffer. I grew up with them as though they were my family."

Obsidian fire receded to give way to a softer forest green. Cool fingers laced with Snow's, slightly squeezing as the Witch drew closer. Snow sensed the change in atmosphere with a sigh of relief slackening her shoulders, knowing she had been forgiven. A smooth whisper came with a warm breath against her ear, "If it will assuage your guilt, I will see what I can do to aid the peasants. I do not wish for you to be unhappy."

Snow's cheeks erupted in a flash of red from the sudden closeness. Even with the flustered state she was in, she was able to comprehend the compromise the Queen had offered her. Shakily, the young girl nodded her thanks and felt the dreaded weight of imprisonment fall from her bones. Ravenna would not intentionally cause her pain; her promise proved that.

The sun was rising, but with a flick of her wrist, the Witch drew the thick curtains across the windows, plunging the room in midnight hues. Slowly, Snow drew into her embrace as they fell into the plush goose plumage, safe. Gilded chains or not, she relished the feel of Ravenna's arms holding her tightly against the Witch's body. And she silently conspired to slowly bring back Ravenna's humanity even if it would take until the stars fell from the heavens and the ocean tides swallowed the land. If only fate could have afforded her the time to reach into the depths of the dark Queen where the fragile heartbeat faintly sounded, unnoticeable to the casual observer within its encasement of ice and stone. But fate had always been cruel to the girl with ebony locks dark as midnight, skin pale as fresh fallen snow, and lips the color of blood drops on crimson rose petals.

~o()o~

Ravenna paced back and forth in the round chamber. The heels of her shoes produced rhythmic clicks with each step, always keeping in time as though she were a guard on patrol. The Mirror off to the side stayed flat and inanimate against its perch on the high wall, awaiting her summons out of habit and politeness more so than the inability to come forth at its own free will. The Queen's fine features were drawn tightly into a frown of inner disapproval, eyes intently flicking across the surrounding dimly lit space but not seeing any of its features. She was thoroughly immersed in her thoughts. It was rare for her to ever think of the welfare of others beyond her brother and herself. The people beneath her had been nothing more than brainless livestock, serving brutes and tyrants without question as they torched the land and stole what they wanted without remorse. Had any of them raised their voices in protest against the sacking of Ravenna's village, or any of the contemporary villages of the other kingdoms she had swept through? No. Had they ever come to beg the forgiveness of the forlorn child who had been torn from her mother's arms and fed to the ravenous wolves dressed in finery and wearing golden crowns? No. So she did not see why she should have even remotely cared about whether the people occupying the muddied streets felt the chill rip through their skins and soak into their bones. Ravenna had felt that chill seeping in. No one had come to offer her consolations. She had come to survive it, just like everything else her centuries had thrown in her way. If the peasants dying in their hovels could not handle the harsh reality of circumstances outside of fairytales, then they were weak. And if Ravenna had learned anything from her many years, it was that life rarely favored the weak.

But now? The Witch had tried to ignore the terrible pain in the haunted green orbs which had pleaded with her. Her anger bristled at the thought of the naïve little flower accusing her of apathy as if it was the gravest of crimes just as it had bristled the night previous. Yet, it had only taken one look to be instantaneously quelled by the hint of fear in the stiffness of Snow's shoulders and the pure innocence from which the young girl's general concern was birthed. She had meant nothing rebellious or insulting by her usage of the possessive pronoun when referring to the filthy rags of human waste unfit to breathe the same air as the Queen, or the girl for that matter. It had been a mere slip of the tongue. It must have been. Snow had never before made any attempts to wrestle even a speckle of authority from Ravenna, at least not to the Witch Queen's extensive knowledge.

_"But she did say it now, did she not?"_ a deep voice said from behind her causing a shudder to run along the blonde's spine; a shiver she quickly suppressed before turning to face the cloaked figure who had been her companion and most trusted advisor since the dawn of her powers. If anyone had asked her what her existence had been without the Mirror, she would not have been able to answer. He was as much a piece of her as her cadaverous heart.

"It was not meant as a slight," Ravenna waved off the perturbing words, "The girl is simply being kind. It is her nature."

_"Her kindness is not something to be taken lightly, My Queen,"_ was the platonic reply. The woman's pacing increased, her hand coming to worriedly cup her chin while resting her elbow on the cloaked forearm of the other.

"She would not harm me," the resoluteness with which the statement should have been made died as it left her mouth. But her mind raged nonetheless. What could one little girl do to her? She was one of the most powerful- if not the most powerful- beings to walk the land. Nothing could kill her; not swords, nor fire, or poisons, or anything mortal. Short of a god's intervention, there was not much Ravenna had to fear. Still, with every passing day, she felt a restlessness develop beneath her skin, making her flesh crawl with suppressed energy, with each glimpse she had of obsidian locks and crystalline amber and emerald eyes. And each time she would hear her mother's voice in her head and the warning which had prowled through her mind with each conquest and each year she had taken from the maidens her brother had brought her.

_"By fairest blood it is done. But by fairest blood it can be undone."_

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall… who is fairest… of them all?"

_"You my Queen are fairest. But be warned; the summer must one day give way to the autumn wind and so too will your glory be overshadowed by another's beauty,"_ the Mirror foretold.

Ravenna spun on her heel, screaming, "It cannot be her! She will not be my downfall!" then quieter, "She cannot be. We have become…"

_"My Queen," _the baritone echoed off of the high ceilings and shook the ground in a series of light tremors. Though the tone never changed, the Witch had long ago learned to recognize the entity's particular indication of graveness, _"Her heart is one of light and gentleness. Her love is growing stronger much as is her inner magic. I have no means of looking into the future, but we have come to know that creatures such as ourselves have no place within the hearts of beings like Snow White. They cannot see us with anything but pity, and even then they will hold no remorse in expunging us from the land. It is in her nature to grow to despise you for what you have done. She is willing to go against you just because of a few measly peasants. What do you think she will do when she discovers that the Duke is alive and her precious William along with him? Do you truly believe that she will still choose you over them?"_

Heat turned Ravenna's gaze to a torrid red. Her fingers tingled with the lack of blood coming through them due to the tight fists they had been balled into. With a mighty backwards swing, the Witch swept her hand in a powerful blow against the golden specter, only to hit nothing but air. The magical entity was gone, replaced by the solid pane of gold reflecting her furious visage against its cool, round surface. Her temples throbbed from the exertion of reining in her warring emotions. The feral beast coiled around the pit of her stomach shifted, crying for the blood of the first person she happened to come across. It would certainly not do for her to go on a rampage and kill half of her staff- quartz soldiers were notorious at doing mediocre household duties- and she would be damned if she allowed anyone to witness the rampant fear rushing through her veins. The Mirror's words reverberated in her very being, filling the hole where she had once housed her soul with the need for security and invincibility. But Ravenna was no longer an immortal. Her prolonged lifetime was in peril of being severely shortened and it was all because of one blasted little child. She should have had the girl killed all those years ago, but even after having heard the dark premonitions of the Mirror, the Queen felt an unbearable pain at picturing Snow White's blood being spilt.

Sensing hesitation, the Mirror swept forward until the distance between them was no more than a finger's length, _"Have I once betrayed you my Queen? Have I given you reason to doubt my council?"_

"No."

_"Then believe that I truly have what is best for you in mind. The girl has a part to play in what is to come, but she must be kept close and guarded. It would not do to have her slight misstep become an outright challenge."_

Cursing at her weakness, she did the only thing she knew how to do when all else fell apart like a sand castle against the tide; she called her brother.

~o()o~

Snow was reclining in her chamber, browsing through the leafy pages of a history of the kingdom and its neighbors without much interest in the long-handed script written on the parchment. A strand of unruly hair fell over her right eye and swayed there, obscuring the scripts though her sight had been blind to them anyway. Heaving a sigh, she snatched it and tucked it behind an ear. It was shortly after her lazy gaze returned to the utterly uninteresting literature that the entrance to her chamber was crashed open with enough force to shake the wooden doors nearly loose from their hinges. Her screams were ignored as two black-armored guards roughly took her arms into their vice grips. The steel biting into her flesh was painful, but the unwelcome stimulus barely registered as her mind grew sharp and distraught with fear. Her legs thrashed and kicked out with no effect other than an irritated grunt from the man to her left. His hand closed over her arm with enough force to cause a stream of blood to slide down from where the metal glove had lacerated the epidermis.

And then she saw him. The pale blonde hair that bordered on white and the stringy skin that was creased in a horribly toothy smile. His hungry eyes were deep cobalt. Snow shivered at how openly those orbs looked up and down her body, wishing that the bodice of her coat was not quite so low. A bony hand came to stroke her cheek, only to pull back hastily as her teeth clicked together where the offending digit had been. His smile never faded; if anything it grew wider as the back of the retreated hand connected sharply with her face. Stars swam in Snow's vision as she limply hung between the two opposing figures keeping her on her feet. Her screams died down to choking sobs of rage and disbelief.

Mustering the most formidable snarl she could manage when completely at the mercy of her restrainers, Snow stood herself up as straight as she was able and petulantly ordered, "Unhand me! If Rav- the Queen knew what you were doing to me, she'd have you all locked up in the cells!"

Her little lapse in formality went unmentioned, but there was a terrifying sparkle in Finn's eyes which had her quaking. Though they were not her first choice in reassurance, the bulky men holding her on either side were suddenly very welcome as barriers between her and the chuckling albino of a man. His chortled broke out into a throaty laugh; he went so far as to throw his head back in a dramatic display of the undying hilarity of the situation.

"Who do you think sent me, little dove?" he questioned, oozing sarcasm and triumph. "You had better be on your best behavior with me. She was not thoroughly explicit in your state of being when we throw you in the North Tower."

And as suddenly as that, Snow's entire world came crashing down on her all over again. Her widened, desperate glances about the room and the struggle for any escape were both futile. The guards were too strong. _Ravenna's _guards. And the Queen's brother moved to stand disquietingly close to her, running a slow hand over the dress covering her thigh. Despite the overlapping fabric and the underlying pant legs between his oily grasp and her oversensitive skin, the pressure was followed by a thousand needles being driven into her body. She recoiled, instinctively kicking at him to force some distance between them. The blow was hard against his hip and sent Finn back a few paces, but he quickly regained his balance. She could see it in the way his devilish face pulled into an enraged scowl that he wanted to return the pain tenfold and so could her gaolers. The man to her left silently stepped forward, slightly moving in front of her like a human bulwark.

"The Queen would not wish for this to take too long," his voice was steady and held the weight of someone who had gone through years of war. Finn growled, but he knew that he would not be allowed to lay another hand on Snow. Sullenly, he straightened the black leather jerkin he had on and moved to stand to the side of the open doorway.

The fear which had been suppressed by the revulsion of being in close quarters with Finn came back to Snow with a vengeance. Her wild flailing and protests went unbidden. Even her pleas for an audience with Ravenna; her attempts to inform her protector of the treasonous actions of her brother as he led the way past the sunlit corridors to the northern section of the castle. It must have all been a tragic mistake. She had come to know the Queen, to grow fond of her, and she knew that Ravenna had come to enjoy her as well. To suddenly, without provocation or explanation, be imprisoned in the nightmarish, claustrophobic little cell again after such a painfully sweet brush of freedom left her feeling empty and afraid. The Queen couldn't have known. She would never have allowed such a thing to be done; not after they had spent a blissful few hours after dawn sleeping in each other's arms. And when Ravenna discovered what they were doing, she would be freed and Finn punished. Snow felt the shivers wrack her frame as the stairs came into few. Her eyes blossomed with tears against her best efforts to stand defiant and proud in front of the monstrous ghoul who had so haunted her dreams.

A wisp of blonde hair from the corner of her eye gave Snow an overwhelming sense of hope. Fortune must have smiled upon her by sending Ravenna to her before they had reached the dank stone confinements. Yes, then she would not even have to suffer being placed behind the cruel bars of unbending iron for another second. Only, when she turned, she knew that she was to be condemned to that darkness once more. For there stood Ravenna in a dress of pure crimson with dark bronze roses tracing up the hem to twine with those hanging down from the belt at the slender waist. Her golden hair hung in sheets as it had done on that night of fire and blood and darkness and fear, though the sun illuminated it with an ethereal light that could not have been emulated by a torch's flame. Two emerald eyes followed the procession with an unnatural calm, as though the Witch was observing a horse being drawn to the stables. Her hands gripping the balustrade and her body's slight lean over the edge were the only indications of the Queen's unbreakable connection to the squirming girl. Where Snow had been fighting against each step to the lonely keep, she now felt her body fall against the ground. All energy had been stolen from her the moment her eyes met those unforgiving irises of pine and witnessed the chilling truth that her Queen would do nothing to save her; for it had been the same woman who had given the order to take her. She had never allowed herself to believe Finn when he had come to take her, but the irrefutable proof was standing across the courtyard in all of her glory. At the very least, the Witch had the decency to meet Snow's eyes and not turn away as the girl was torn apart by her psyche. No, Ravenna held those pain-filled eyes and did not let go until the side of the tower wall came between them.

The stone was unforgiving as she was thrown against it. And there was that little old fireplace and the cot in the corner. The strands of straw that had fallen from the tattered mattress. The window with its bars, holding the room in perpetual twilight except for the five minutes or so when the sun hit it just right. And then the clang of the door echoed off of the empty chambers of the North Tower. Snow could not bear to turn and affirm that she was locked away and alone. She did not have the strength nor the heart for it. It would only be a physical representation of the unfairness of it all. She had been given a taste of what being free had meant, only to be thrown back into the square dungeon pit.

It was only after the Queen's brother and the guards' steps faded away into complete silence that Snow finally let herself cry without restraint. It was hateful what they had done to her… what _she _had done. She should have hated. She had every right to feel the fires stoked in her chest. All she felt was a cold sense of loss clinging to her very bones. And she found herself, more than anything, missing the soft touch of the Queen's arms encircling her.

**P.S. So, that's it for chapter two. Let me know what you think and I will hopefully be posting chapter three sometime later this week or early next week. Please excuse any grammatical errors. My eyes can only catch so many. Until next time!**


	3. Mausoleum of Snow

**A/N: Hello all! Sorry it took so long but I had to switch computers and whatnot which makes it difficult to update. Then there was no internet and blah blah, but none of that matters now because I am finished with writing and revising yet another chapter of this fic. I have to say, I really enjoy the feedback, whether in reviews or simply views. Reviews are always the best, though having readers in general makes writing so much more fun than if it would just end up gathering virtual dust in the confines of my word doc. Hope you enjoy and I will hopefully get the next chapter up soon. It is nearing the closing... quite the short story... which makes me want to take my time making sure the end is how I want it to be. I got a lot of inspiration for this chapter and this story in general from a fic by AppleGrappler so if you haven't read it, I definitely would. It is awesome!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the rags I wear- tough they are very nice rags I must admit- and the keyboard with which this is being typed up.**

**Forgive any mistakes!**

There was a dull monotony as the days bled into weeks and then they too bled into long months of grey. The first few nights, Snow could not fall into the merciful otherworld of sleep. The cot was hard against her back and made her spine ache with each toss and turn, but it was the horridly familiar shadows that kept her eyes constantly monitoring her surroundings. It was as if they had known that she was to be returned to their dreaded clutches and had bided their time, patiently, for the opportunity to swallow her whole. Worse than the haunting shades were the few times she saw the cloaked figure standing to the far right side of the bars, half hidden in the blackness of the night but not completely invisible. And at times the moon shined through in such a way as to illuminate the supple flesh of half-lidded eyes, irises sparkling like gemstones, and the soft curve of a fine cheek. Hair richer than gold was nearly white from the reflection of the silver light. Snow would hold back tears to keep the skittish figure from retreating back into the hollow halls of the castle below. As much as it tore at her to not be able to run to the prison gate, wrapping her fingers around the forbidding metal, and cry out the Witch's name, Snow also feared that such an action would chase Ravenna away. So she stayed with open eyes hidden behind a curtain of mussed hair and watched as the embodiment of her pain and sadness looked back at her until the faint rays of dawn's approach brought about her retreat.

After a time the visits stopped.

Then the prayers came back.

Then came Gretta. The poor girl, more frightened than anyone her age had a right to be; but then again, Snow had grown to know fear as a constant presence in her existence. Though the news of Duke Hammond alive- even if William's fate had not been confirmed- was akin to sunlight breaking through years of nothing but ominous clouds.

Her coming of age came filled with the overly familiar feeling of dread. Snow had come to hate her birthdays, marking them as harbingers of ill fortune and bad tidings. Surely enough, there came the sound of heavy footsteps across the floor, approaching the forgotten chamber serving as her quarters.

She had kept quite still, just as she had before when Finn had watched her. Her breath hitched as his spindly hands turned the key to unlock the cell, but she forced down the squeak threatening to crawl from her throat. His first question barely registered past the hammering of her erratic heartbeat. When her brain finally comprehended the slimy words oozing from pale pink, puffy lips she hadn't the strength for more than a shake of her head. His steps to her bed were short but brisk and each one froze the air in her lungs. The weight of his body sinking into the rickety bed, so close that his clothing brushed against her dress, had bile burning at the back of her throat. She quelled the shaking in her limbs by gripping the rusted metal in her hand and burying it further into her pillow. If she had to, she was willing to forfeit her life before letting him lay one oily finger on her.

"You are always awake when I watch you," Snow balked at the husk lacing his tone. She would have been a madwoman if she had found sleep with him practically drooling at her from behind the bars.

Which led to her observation, "You've never come in before."

"My sister won't allow it," the vague displeasure in his statement sent butterflies flapping in Snow's stomach. Ravenna still thought of her. Perhaps it was too much to hope for and yet… "She wants you all to herself."

Elation wormed its way through the tumble of revulsion and terror to nestle in Snow's chest. Ravenna wanted her. She had made it clear enough to her brother that the girl was not to be touched by anyone other than herself, not to be physically harmed- though the mental scarring permanently ingrained in Snow's psyche would forever rear its ugly head whenever she found herself in an enclosed space. Though the oddity of having allowed Finn access to the prison was something of a contradiction, the former Princess could not keep the slight upturn of her lips from showing. Finn's mock concern morphed into a scowl so, thinking quickly, Snow wiped the fledgling smile from her lips and whispered, "I'm afraid of her."

The abomination that was his 'kindly' grin returned to further mar the man's face, "But not of me."

He leaned down ever so slowly, as if cherishing the suspense of finally having what he had wanted for so long but had so eluded him. Snow inwardly growled, wishing she could find the resolve to strike at him. She held firm to the belief that he would not go any further, not completely immune to the threat of his sister's ire. The pale hand, cold and slippery as death, tucked a stray strand behind her ear, causing Snow to wistfully remember a similar act performed by hands so much more alluring. Her shudder was beyond her ability to suppress; a very quiet "no" escaping her lips.

"Fear not, Princess," he whispered, moving his hand down to slip another lock behind her shoulder, baring an expanse of milky flesh. "You'll never again be locked in this cell."

The predatory look in his beady eyes ensnared her fragile form. _Ravenna,_ her thoughts murmured, pleaded. Only, the Queen was not with her. She had given her lecherous brother the key to the cell containing the object of his perversions without even bothering to send in more guards to ensure that Snow was not violated in the high chamber where no one but poor Gretta could hear her screams.

"What does she want from me?" she had been asking herself that question for ten years. Snow had never meant to say it out loud, especially not to Finn who could never have held the answer. It was meant only for the Dark Queen, keeping it secret behind her barricades of ice and steel and quartz. There were only glimpses, snatched from the corner of longing green eyes that gave minute details away, but they were too small and cryptic that Snow was unable to give them meaning.

She had not been expecting an answer. She had most certainly not expected the one she was given. Holding his fingers with each tip circling the center of her chest, the man sadistically spit out, "Your beating heart."

_Liar!_ Her senses shrieked, the nail slicing his smug face open. _Liar!_ She sobbed as she frantically ran for the open gate and locked the monster inside like the beast he was. _Liar! _The word echoed as she ran, following the birds into the sewage shaft and falling into the sea._He had to have been lying,_ Snow murmured in her head. But she fled outside of the castle walls instead of into the arms of the Queen and Snow could not deny the significance of it. She was running away from Ravenna as opposed to running toward her.

~o()o~

The memories were still fresh in her mind. Even after everything they had gone through; her acquaintance with the huntsman hired to bring her back, their flight, and the village. The dwarves and the clearing with the mystical elk and the playful fairies. Finn, finally dead- though her nightmares of him were still terribly vivid. Finding William again. The death of Gus. But her thoughts always seemed to drift to the curtained room behind the heavy, closed door where silken sheets and loving arms had encircled her; the fragrance of milk and honey and magic drifting through the air and cloaking her in its sweetness. Her hands running through thick volumes of blonde as deft hands ran through her own hair. Green on green and losing herself in the deep reaches of the enigmatic woman's obsidian pupils. In truth, it was not the memory of the constant fear felt by being hunted by the Queen's men, nor was it the death of a dear friend that brought the tears to her eyes each night. It was the emptiness beside her on the mossy ground, wrapped in crude furs and scratching skins. It was the complete emptiness that had clung to her for over a year. An emptiness that neither William nor Eric could fill despite their best efforts to keep her smiling. It was an emptiness only one could fill, and that person seemed hell bent on ripping Snow's heart from her chest.

And the dreams. Oh the dreams. They came every night. Wonderful in their vividness and so painful when the dawn broke them like fragile china dolls. Snow could not seem to recall a point in her life, before now, in which she had wished for the phantasmal images to be reality. Before, she had always prayed for the nightmares to end, for the physical world to once more grab hold of her mind and drag it back to the safety of her body. Even in the prison cell, it had been so. But now, so far from the castle where she had grown up, in these lands of magic and wilderness, it was the dreams that anchored her to the place where she was destined to return. And the person waiting within those walls. Waiting, but for what? Did Ravenna expect her to storm the walls with the army housed in Duke Hammond's castle? Or did the Witch anticipate the weakness of will she had sown within Snow's heart to blossom and bring the girl back to her alone and defeated?

Snow's eyes fluttered open to a sky of white. The air bristled with the chill of the pure flakes of ice that had come to drift from above the previous night. Her furs were shrouded by the trillions of particles. Beside her, warming her feet, the fire crackled with life as though it had been fed recently. But no one in the group of misfits and rebels looked awake. She was alone in observing the quiet of the morning's arrival.

Feeling rather awake, the young girl stiffly got to her feet, shaking away the last vestiges of cramping from her muscles. The warmth of the furs gave way to a biting frost, causing her to immediately throw on a thicker, dark brown overcoat. Her messy hair hung in clumps down her back, whitened by patches of powdery frozen water. Her legs carried her through the trees, so beautifully contrasting the lack of color in the snow world with their black trunks. The clumps of snow hanging from their branches and striating the bark almost made them look like the zebra horses she had once seen in a book her father had given her as a present. She had spent months playing pretend with William, running about the grounds on a safari to the foreign lands where such animals were more common than pigeons.

A presence behind her broke through her thoughts. The tingling that ran along her spinal column only intensified when she spotted the mop of wavy brown locks and the stubbly smile of her best childhood friend. Her minor lament over having the quiet of the dawn broken disappeared like ice melting in the springtime with one look at his face.

"William," she said. His soft footfalls slowed to a halt when he had come a few feet short of her. Not wishing to shorten the leisurely stroll, Snow turned her back to him and continued taking in the scenery, "It's as if nothing's changed here. The world seems beautiful again."

Out of the corner of her eye, she kept the silhouette of the boy, turned young man, in view. His eyes sparkled with a certain energy she had not seen in him, even when they had finally been reunited. She chose to ignore the anomalous change, rationalizing it as an aberration formed by her mind and the glow of the sun's light reflected off of the terrain.

"It will be," his low voice carried across the soundless woods. There was a profound longing in the words, and a bitter solemnity wrapped into them, "when you are Queen."

Something in Snow's heart faltered at the title. As a child, she had known that one day she would be given the role; once her parents were old and grey. But after a decade of referring to someone else as 'Queen,' Snow suddenly found the notion of her taking up the crown alien. She could not compete with the sheer natural regality with which Ravenna carried herself, nor could she see herself wearing the crown quite so befittingly. Not the iron one with its formidable spikes, nor the golden one originally borne by the royalty of Tabor.

"The people of this kingdom hate Ravenna with every fiber," William spoke. There was a slight downward curve to his lips though it was quickly covered by a faint smile. Snow's feet turned leaden as her teeth sank into her tongue before she could make a retort to the contrary. The reality of it was that William was not wrong, at least from what she had seen throughout her journey. The villagers with their scarred faces came to mind. Despite all of the cruelty and pain suffered, Snow could not bring herself to believe her best friend's statement as a positive thing. Strategically it was beneficial. If she had been apathetic, or worse antipathetic toward the Witch Queen, perhaps it would have come as a welcome reassurance. But Snow had come to know the other side to her captor; the side which could hold the warmth of a burning star in its touch and gift one with a caress softer than a swan's plumage. She had witnessed a true smile grace the fair, pink lips and play across the pools of conifer hue. She could no longer see the woman locked in the castle as a monstrous enemy. In retrospect, Snow had never been able to see Ravenna as anything more vile than a wounded animal blindly biting at anyone who dared come too close.

"I used to hate her," she said silently, hating the small lie but understanding that it would only anger William if she did not. After all, he was far less willing to forgive than she was and the next sentence to leave her mouth had the potential to rile him up if nothing else, "now I feel only sorrow."

Sorrow for the many leagues separating her from the enchanting woman. Sorrow for the conflicting feelings brought about by the constant battle between her heart and her head. Sorrow in the knowledge that William would never understand the confounding longing she held toward the Queen. He could never comprehend how she had come to love her ruin; how she had come to need the constant electrical current that perforated the room whenever Ravenna stepped inside of it. He could only hate. And it broke Snow in two.

William had stayed silent for some time, possibly mulling over how completely insane she must have been for saying something like that. Snow did not dare turn and look at him for fear of what she would see in those stormy grey-green eyes of his. Then, as though changing the subject without completely rejecting the topic, he spoke, "Once people find out you're alive, they'll rise up in your name."

Did she want that? Snow shuddered at the thought of all of the weight she would have to carry. Everyone's hopes and aspirations; responsibilities and expectations. She wondered whether Ravenna had acted in a perpetually cruel manner because it was what had been expected of her; much as Snow now found herself pressured into being some sort of saintly martyr come to slay the dragon.

"Takes more than a name, " she voiced her doubts.

"You are your father's daughter; the rightful heir," he strongly retorted. Then quieter, as though saying it any louder than a whisper would bring the wrath of the gods- both old and new- upon them, "If I had a choice, I'd take you away."

His long strides had taken him ahead of Snow. The nervousness in his gate was matched by the urgency in his confession. Only, Snow did not feel it as 'his.' William had never been much for words, and it had taken most of his courage to simply look her in the eyes up until that point. To have him wording his thoughts in such a poetic manner seemed almost… like another entity had possessed his body. Snow's eyes widened, her heart hammering adrenaline through her suddenly heated body. She did well to hide the creeping suspicion coming over her, not wishing to interrupt the heartfelt speech.

In a voice much too deep for Snow's taste, the flowing language came forth, as though a monologue to the wind rather than a personal message directed at her, "Keep you safe by my side."

She wanted to run to him. To embrace him. But it was not William occupying her thoughts. His words were being spoken in a higher, more musical tone. The broad shoulders and hard muscles of his back were replaced by feather-light skin and supple curves; the worn leather had become a dress made of the most expensive materials. She only needed one look into those stormy eyes and Snow knew that her deductions would be correct.

_I want nothing more than to be by your side forever,_ she wanted to say. What came out instead was, "How do I inspire them? How will I lead men?"

_I am not you,_ Snow added mentally.

'William' had come to a stop between two thin, young trees. When his face finally came to turn back to her, Snow could only pray that her heart did not jump out of her chest and willingly surrender itself to the molten gaze of emerald eyes. The grey surrounding the iris was still the old William's, an almost perfect replica, but Snow had spent too long looking into the boy's eyes- and even longer peering into the eyes of the person now standing with her- to not tell the difference.

"The way you led me when we were children," was the ready reply. Snow pushed down the heavy disappointment at the continued charade, not comprehending why her companion did not simply transform into her original form. Still in William's deep English, the Sorceress continued, "I followed you everywhere; ran when you call. I would have done anything for you."

"That's not how I remember it," Snow retorted. She had always walked beside the Queen or behind her. Even on their private escapes into the gardens, it had been instinctual to let the older woman take the lead. It was not a matter of hurt pride or subdued submission. It was simply what was inanely right. A lion may have been able to walk before a gazelle, but even the King of Beasts must bow before the dragon.

"No?" clear amusement flashed behind the darkened irises. Snow bemoaned the veiled intensity of the sea green she had grown so fond of. The bastardization of the color caused by the illusion was insulting.

"No," Snow affirmed. Playfully pulling up memories of their verbal sparring cessions in the library over some philosophy or another and the constant struggle it had been to keep Ravenna away from the stockpile of useless scribbles Snow had made on the papers in her desk, the young girl recalled, "We used to fight… all the time. And argue."

Overwhelmed by the raw emotion swirling in her stomach, Snow finally closed the distance between them, running a hand against a hard cheek covered with bristles. She missed the smoothness of the porcelain face hidden behind the façade of manliness, but the electricity running through her fingertips and along her arm was unmistakable. One thousand centuries could go by and she would still remember that touch. The dirty brown locks were far too short and too dark, but if she closed her eyes, Snow saw the layers of unwavering gold falling in cascades down the length of a beautifully sculpted back. Her eyelids flickered open as she drew in, closer. She had never dared this before. Never had she had the strength to come so close to what she had desired for so long. There had always been that one centimeter of space that was never breached. Only, now it was as though the skin Ravenna had donned was enough to erase some of the impossibility of the entire situation. Snow could not decide whether to keep her eyes open so as to not miss a single moment, or closing them so that it was not William's face she saw, but the one underneath it. When their lips met, Snow was surprised by the pliability of the skin. It was magic coursing through her with each nanometer of flesh coming together. She swore to never end that moment. She would kill the one who brought it to a close.

Only, forever was not something that was possible in the plane upon which they lived. And as soon as the kiss had begun, the contact was severed by the withdrawal of William's lips. Snow leaned in, stealing away another peck. It was not nearly enough to satisfy the fire burning her veins to cinders. She trembled in the sudden cold that hit her face without the warmth of skin and blood so close to her.

Almost apologetically, 'William' held up a ripened, crimson apple. Snow reached for it, noting the slight shaking of the calloused fingers as hers came into contact with them. There was a slight moment where the procurer of the fruit resisted her attempt at taking it. Snow's mind flared with unbidden warnings against the small food item. She looked into the turbulent green oceans staring at her and danced away before 'William' could take the apple back. He looked as though he was about to protest, but she cut him off, smirking, "I remember that trick."

Confusion masked the conflict behind the obsidian pupils, "What trick?"

And had it not been obvious before, it was all confirmed with that one question. The deception, the puppet's body, and the true nature of her visitor. Looking at the apple in her hands, Snow wrestled with the implications of what she held. There was no doubt that it was poisoned. It had come from the tree where she and the real William had played so many years ago. The tree where he had pretended to hand her the fruit and snatched it away just as she had come to grasp at it. The tree she had stared at, covered in neutral sheets of snow, when her mother had passed away. Only, Ravenna could not have known those memories. All the Queen knew- along with Snow- was that the fruit the young girl now held in her delicate fingers was meant to be the death of her. A flash of outrage crossed Snow's thoughts, though she was careful to keep it from her face. If Ravenna wanted her dead so badly, then she would have her death. But Snow knew, though the older woman would likely deny it until her dying breath; that Ravenna's heart beat for her just as Snow's beat for the Queen. And if it took her death to prove it to the stubborn Witch, then she was more than willing to make the sacrifice. If Ravenna wanted her heart carved out and brought before her on a silver platter, then Snow was done with losing the lives of her friends to keep it from her. But Ravenna would have to survive with the guilt that the act would entail. Snow had seen it, the hesitancy. It had been present on the night of the Witch's ascension to the throne. It had been there the night that she had released Snow from her prison and then again on the day when she had once again placed her behind those rusted bars. So, straightening her back and putting as much strength into her stature as she could, the Princess took a bite of the venomous apple, all the while not once breaking eye contact with her poisoner.

The pain had been something she had not expected. No fire could have compared to the raging inferno consuming her senses. It was more akin to acid being poured into every cell in Snow's body. Her choking gasps and screams did not carry far as her larynx shut down. She found that breathing was becoming exceptionally difficult and her legs were no longer able to support her. She backed away, fearfully beseeching 'William' to do something, anything, to make the torment stop. He followed her stumbling form, but never moved close enough to help her in any way. There was a sick smile playing on his lips which only grew as she fell to the ground in convulsions. Coming to kneel beside her writhing form, the strong jawline and broad cheekbones melted away to a much smaller head and petite body. The hair of spun gold had become dulled silver, pulled away from a face marred by wrinkles and age. Still, the sight of Ravenna's body, so near to Snow that their clothing touched, was enough to quell some of the roaring agony.

Sickeningly slow, the Queen stooped over Snow's prone figure. In an almost gentle tone, Ravenna cooed, "You see child? Love always betrays us."

Whether she was referring to Snow's love for William or the irrational infatuation the young girl seemed to have with the Witch herself, the Princess was unable to tell. Her limbs felt immovable, numbed from any feeling whatsoever. At least it was a reprieve from the torturous flames. She heard Ravenna's voice clearly though everything else was witnessed as if from the wrong end of a spyglass.

"By fairest blood it was done… and only by fairest blood can it be undone," Ravenna was so close now, stretching her hand out so that it hovered over Snow's drooping eyelids. The urgency with which she spoke the prophetic mantra was mirrored in the Queen's dilated eyes. She knew that she would likely never get the opportunity again. She could almost taste the ambrosia that was immortality on the tip of her tongue as it pressed against her clenched teeth. A strange need came over the Witch as she moved her hand to float just above Snow's ribcage. She needed the younger girl to understand, to not blame her heartlessness for what she was about to do. She had no other choice. She could not die yet.

"You were the only one who could break the spell and destroy me."

_If there had been any other way…_

_I would have spared you from all of this…_

_I never wanted to cause you harm. I still do not…_

_But you would betray me. You are loved. You are a creature of the light… And creatures such as you could never love something as foul and wretched as me._

_If I do not take this from you, my dear, dear Snow White, then it will be the end of me._

"And the only one pure enough… to save me."

_Gods know I am sorry._

Snow's eyes widened slightly, even past all of the haze and disjointedness. Salvation. She was meant to be Ravenna's salvation. Or her doom. She wanted to pull the frightened blonde into her arms and never let go. To promise her that she would never cause her harm. Only, Snow's fingers could not move, much less her entire arms.

_I want to save you! _She screamed in her head. Her tongue felt fat and useless in her mouth. The acrid residue of the rotten apple had lost its putrid taste, but the ashes still clung to Snow's pallet.

Sudden anger crept up over the Queen's features, her eyes glazed as though somewhere very far away. Then, filled with anguish and frustration, she growled, "You don't even realize how lucky you are, never to know what it is to grow old!"

The dagger glinted in the morning light as it was raised aloft. Snow did not have the mental capacities to even flinch away from the wicked point. All she could think in that one moment, held in suspension with time moving at the pace of honey dripping from a jar, was a silent hope that Ravenna would somehow find peace in her existence. Immortality seemed like such a sad and lonely road, especially when it had caused the Queen so much  
unimaginable heartache already. In the second where their eyes met, Snow conveyed her forgiveness for what was about to be done to her. She realized then that she could not hate Ravenna even with the knife only a few feet away from her heart.

"NO!" the bellow broke the telepathic link Snow had found with the Queen. The accent was unmistakable as was the flash of steel and wood as the Huntsman's axe sailed in the direction of Ravenna's head. Only, instead of steel meeting with tissue and bone, it whistled emptily through air as the Witch erupted into a vortex of ebony-winged ravens. The caws of distraught birds and the sickening crunch of bone breaking and flesh severing was indication of the demise of a few unlucky birds, but the majority of the dark flock quickly flew into the sky, soon disappearing into the horizon.

Snow was still breathing, though barely. Her vision blurred and could only pick up hints of color and shade. Something dark came to loom over her. It was missing the sharpness that was the Queen's visage so she could only guess that it was either Eric or William. Neither could help her either way, and now it had all been done in vain. Ravenna had been vanquished without her prize, and Snow was going to die in the cold, hard snow without having been able to fulfill her last purpose. It was suddenly all too much. Her eyes closed, no longer having the will to fight the spell eating through her final defenses. There was only a slight, empty pressure against her pallid lips before Snow knew no more.

~o()o~

Weak. Putrid. Vile. Ravenna had never experienced such a horrible nausea as her arms, caked in tar and feathers, clawed for a grip so she could lever herself out of the puddle of the spell's refuse. Her dress clung to her wizened body, weighing more than her fragile bones could support for more than a moment before it dragged her down once more. Her mouth opened to call for her brother, needing his constant attentiveness in her dire state. The name died in her throat as she remembered the pain with which he had died. How her back had been punctured and her chest torn, every iota of stimulus felt by her last family member seeping into her own body. Moans escaped in shallow bursts as his pleas for help rang in her ears. She had not had the power to save him. And it was all because of that girl. The small dove and her Huntsman dog had taken Finn from her. They had taken it all. And when she had been just about to finish it all, to finally fulfill her mother's command, it had all turned to nothing.

_"Avenge us."_

Ravenna wanted to scream to the heavens. Had she not done enough? Had she not brought nearly all of Britain to its knees through the eight hundred years of her conquest? If so, why had the loss never lessened; the emptiness never filled? Her hand reached for her Mirror, beseeching it for some answer that was far beyond her reach. The golden oval stayed completely blank. Her panicked sobs echoed through the circular chamber, bouncing around the curved roof.

_What is left? Finn is gone. The girl is gone, with or without her heart in my hand. I am alone._

The cold talons of despair dug into the cockles of her chest. Ravenna had never been as truly alone as she was now. And, if she were to be honest, there was really no one to blame but herself. She could have called Finn back, resigned herself to the fate that awaited all mortals and enjoyed the final moments of their lives together. She could have kept Snow by her side until she could no longer steal away youth and her bones crumbled under the pressure of time. She could have taken the apple from the younger girl's hands, or simply not brought it out at all.

The Queen's eyes widened as images of the snowy forest flickered behind her unfocused eyes. The manner with which the girl's nonchalant friendliness had become something far more intimate. She could not possibly have known. The Witch's spell had been flawless. She had poured her last remaining strength to ensure that the façade was impeccable. She had sensed no shift in her mask until she herself had taken it off. And the kiss? Had Snow known then too? It made no sense. Snow had said that she hated Ravenna.

_Had hated. Once. No more._

Ravenna's muscles struggled to push her out of her prone position on the floor. It took longer than her wounded pride would have liked, but she was able to manage a standing position- though heavily supported by the wall she had rather roughly fallen against. Her thoughts drifted as she placed a finger against her parched lips. The skin was still sensitive from the other girl's pressure and the touch sent a delicious shiver along her body. It was a foreign emotion, not the lust she had long ago sated and certainly not the manipulative sensuality with which she lured men to their deaths.

A sharp throb hit her ribcage, causing her to pitch forward in shock. Her clawed fingers ripped at the plumaged fabric of her constricting dress as the intensity of the sensation grew. Her breathing became erratic with the volatile increase in temperature. The room was spinning uncontrollably around her. The walls blurred into cold fog as tears escaped in cool streams down flushed cheeks. Another throb and she was on her knees, crawling to the Mirror so that she might see what was happening to her. No wound caused by sword or axe or mace had ever come with such excruciating agony.

Something cold grazed her bowed head. A solid force turned her onto her back, her spine loudly protesting as she hit the curved steps. Her entire body shook as two-ton weights crashed into the walls of flesh protecting her barely beating heart. Where the force hit, a blissful cool set into her bones. The kindling flames licking at her phantom lungs and deadened heart receded, providing a welcome reprieve. At the second impact, Ravenna arched her back so as to get closer to her savior, whatever it was. The coals in her chest cavity had become nothing more than lit embers. With the third push, this one far more gentle than the previous, she was able to open her eyes and relax her clenched muscles. Before her, in all of its cloaked glory, was the golden Mirror.

_"My Queen,"_ it said in its grave tone.

"What happened to me?" she gasped, finding the air filling her lungs to taste more delicious than sugar.

_"It is the girl's magic. She is slowly killing you," _the masked face never stirred nor did the voice change from its silvery pitch in indication of any concern. Still, Ravenna had learned lifetimes ago to read her faithful servant. The barest tremors ran along the silken metal of its hooded head as he rose to loom over her. She took the offered hand with a shiver, feeling the pulsating powers of blood and sorcery coursing into her fingertips from the cool appendages clothed in gold.

The Mirror shifted away, coming to stand a respectful distance from his sovereign_, "You must finish it. She was destined to be your ruin, unless you become hers first."_

Ravenna turned away, glancing at the disk of sunlight yellow which seemed only tarnished by the hideous old hag reflected by it. She could have shattered it into a million shards if she dared. But then she would have lost even her precious advisor. And what would be left after that? Cold stone walls and quartz phantoms without a hint of empathy. No. Her mind screamed at her for letting such an opportune moment slip through her fingers like the snowflakes littering the woods where the deed had nearly been done. It would have meant the end of all her grief and the final revenge for her family. It would have meant immortality; a gift afforded only to the gods in their heavenly thrones. Yet, her chest recoiled and her throat constricted whenever she thought back on the willful look in forest-green eyes and the raspy intakes of air that the younger girl had made as the poison slowly worked its way through her body. The knife had hovered, as though kept apart from the milky flesh beneath by some invisible shield the Witch could not break. Only, it was Ravenna's hands which had frozen and her arms which had refused to plunge the blade where Snow's failing heart gave its last struggle for life. There was no outside force upon which she could place the blame of her failure. It had been she who could not finish the spell. Ravenna wrestled with herself as she gazed upon the visage of something horrid and decrepit staring back at her with nothing but repulsion. Why the hesitation? Snow was most likely dead anyway. The apple had been infused with very old, very powerful witchcraft only broken by the strength of true love's kiss. Really, it had all been a spectacular waste in the end. Unless… unless she could finish it.

"How many girls do we still have in the dungeon?" the Queen inquired, barely audible to most but loud and clear to her Mirror.

_"Enough for your intentions and more should you need to recover once the deed has been done."_

"Send them to me," she commanded.

Despite the lack of anyone else in the room besides herself and the phantom, a guard appeared not long after with a line of five maidens form the outlying villages. Ravenna lamented using up all of the stock in the nearby town, but she had been greedy and lustful for youth after her triumph in conquering yet another kingdom. They were scrawny, frightened things, the ones they brought before her. Not the prettiest faces- she had taken all of them too- just good enough to fit her purposes. Three of the girls were tall with dirty, brown hair that fell down to their wastes in matted clumps. They could have been sisters for all of the similarities they shared, though the small folk all tended to look alike to the Witch Queen. The following girl was plump with a layer of baby fat she had not shed, even with the dearth of food plaguing the land. She was a blonde and had eyes of foggy blue which danced between the floor and Ravenna, afraid to look away from the menacing presence of the woman and yet unable to linger on her for too long without being cowed by the deprecating glower of emerald irises. The final girl was younger than the rest and shorter by a hand's measure. She cringed like the rest, her tawny locks hiding her face except for two grey-green eyes shimmering in the newly lit fire within the pit at the center of the circular room. Her round face bore tracts of mud streaked by dried tears. A series of scratches ran along her left arms until they ended in a bruise over her wrist, possibly from where her mother fought to keep a hold of her as the knights tore them apart._ Like I was torn from mine own mother's arms,_ Ravenna felt sickened by the mere thought. She was not like those men. She did not kill them, only took their vitality and beauty. She would return the girl if she survived the night in the dungeons, back to a mother who would undoubtedly look a maid in comparison to her daughter, but it was not death. It was not rape and pillage. It was benign sacrifice.

She took the young one first, not able to stand the sparkle in those doe eyes and the images of another, dark-haired and green-eyed beauty lying somewhere in the stiff manner of the deceased. The rest succumbed to her thief's kiss quickly, and with each she felt some of her strength come back to her. The aches and pains remained, though they were far less ingrained into her joints and vertebrae. The grey nettle that was her hair fell loosely in velvety strands of gold to match her Mirror's glint. The fullness of her lips returned as the creases along her eyes and mouth vanished in place of flawless skin. And when she looked again into the fullness of the golden sheet of metal hung upon her wall, she was once more the fearsome Queen whose will could stop the beating of men's hearts and turn armies into dust.

"Now, where are you, my dear, dear Snow White?"

~o()o~

Snow dreamed, though it was not as she had ever dreamed before. There were no images and her body would not move with the liveliness of the mind's wanderings. Instead, there was a pervading darkness. Sometimes brief flashes of color would flash by her in bursts of violet or cerulean or peach, but the majority of the landscape was marked by a steady flow of black tar. She did not know how she came to find that the darkness moved. There was nothing to contrast it to in order to mark its path, nor could her eyes pick out a separation among the solid walls of ebony, but there was a feeling of drifting. She could not have given direction to it for there was no up or down or side-to-side in this place. It was only an instinctual comprehension of a pulse, stirring the darkness about. Snow shook with cold, wishing she knew where she had left her warmth, or her body for that matter. Once or twice she thought that she had felt it returning, but it was only a lingering touch of a candle's flame against an iceberg prison. Never enough. She could not have said how long she had been waiting in the state of limbo that had consumed her. There was no sense of urgency or lethargy, only a loose state of 'being.' Snow had thought about her friends and her father when her awareness first resurfaced after a period of complete unconsciousness. Those thoughts had only brought her sorrow, so she had quickly moved past the subject. She had simply slipped into an apathetic rhythm of nonchalance. At times she could not help but remember a sensation or an emotion; Ravenna's body pressed against hers, the apple's crispy flesh turning putrid in her mouth, William speaking to her of running away- only, it had not been William but another who had spoken those words. Snow had never wished for tears before, finding them an inconvenient display of childish weakness, until now. Now, there was only nothingness within and without.

~o()o~

Ravenna stepped out of the shadows where she had hidden once the Huntsman had left. Her mouth was in a tight line and it had taken all of the Queen's self-control not to have strangled the drunken fool.

_She is not your Sarah!_ She wanted to cry out, _she is mine!_

Only she wasn't. Snow was no one's anymore. Not since Ravenna had handed her over to Death to keep in his dark halls.

_He loves her,_ the realization stung and as the Huntsman had spoken of angels, it only served to widen the gap between the Witch and the pale girl lying on her bed of furs and stone. Angels had been something Ravenna had never been able to fully hate. The New Religion- though it was hardly considered new anymore- had taken everything from her and yet, she had always marveled at the painted glass murals and the stone mosaics of glorious winged creatures protecting the lost and afraid. Only, there had never been angels for her. They had not saved her from the King's men any more than the hide hut where she had hidden. It was the magic of the Old Ways that had given Ravenna strength. And now the intoxicated ruffian spoke of angels as if he knew the Queen was listening. And he drove the wedge further between her and the child she had killed. And she hated him for it with all of her heart, dead as it was.

_It is his betrayal that has me so irritated,_ she unconvincingly told herself, all the while gripping one of the iron candle holders so hard that the metal snapped in half and she was forced to quickly mend it with a twitch of her wrist. The column behind which she had stayed was thick and provided enough shelter for her to remain unnoticed as the doors to the great chamber were closed by the retreating form of the stricken man. It had also sheltered her from his timid kiss upon the lips of the fragile girl, and it was luck on her part as, had she seen it, Ravenna's presence would not have remained unnoticed for long. But the boom of the doors faded and the Queen still stayed behind her pillar of marble. It was only her and Snow White.

The knife felt heavy in the fold of her dress where it was safely kept. The steel bit into her thigh as she moved across the marble floors, scattering shadows of herself from the multiple light sources around the room. The two candlesticks posted on either side of the pedestal upon which Snow had been laid gave the illusion of life flourishing within the slender cheeks. The Queen ran a hand through the wavy locks of obsidian, moving the strands so that they perfectly encased the girl in a halo of black. The dress she had been put into made her look smaller; the white fabric clinging to a stilled body missing the expansion and contraction of the chest as breath came in and out.

Climbing onto the stone was made difficult by the heavy silver fabric of Ravenna's dress. She had replaced the soiled black-feather frock for something resembling the light spilled from a full moon. Her hair had been pulled up into a suitable braid which had then been wrapped around her head to frame her skull. The silver necklace clinging to her neck was a waterfall of glimmering metal. Her feet were bare for better purchase and a quicker escape if she was forced to flee swiftly and without the use of magic.

Her hands gripped the outcropping of the girl's marble resting place, clinging for more leverage with which to keep balance. Once she was sure that she would not ungracefully tip over and find herself on the floor, the Queen reached down to unsheathe the dagger. Her hand brushed the cool skin of Snow's arm as she searched for the sharpened steel, distracting her from her task. She had never felt such lack of warmth from the girl, not even in the windy cells of the North Tower. Her eyes moved to the closed eyes, long eyelashes meshed together as they do when one slumbers. Only, Ravenna knew that there was no wake from this sleep. Those lips, still darker than the rest of Snow's complexion, were light pink instead of their usual red. Those traitorous things had parted to allow the apple to pass and bring about all of the turmoil Ravenna felt writhe in her stomach. Unfair. Why was she forced to stare upon such a divine creature and know that she would have to defile it? The Queen sucked in a breath from between her clenched teeth, finally managing to pull the dagger from the depths of her dress. Her lips thrummed with the remembered touch amongst the swirl of snow and the dance of dawn removing all color except that which lay in those crimson petals adorning Snow's face.

_One kiss,_ Ravenna's body beseeched. _One and then take the heart. But let blood not darken this light before first having one last taste. Winter has finally taken the vitality of the rose, but the petals remain, so why not take one last sniff of fragrance? _If both the Duke's son and the Huntsman had been unable to break the curse, surely it was sound enough to last Ravenna's caress. And she longed to press her lips against Snow's without the sheath of magic warping her face into something, someone, else.

Tentatively, being careful with the tip of the knife, the Queen lowered herself until she was only inches away from the felled beauty. In truth, such preserved beauty was a blessing in itself, but the lack of green adorning the petite face made the entire view less than it should have been. Still, when Ravenna allowed her lips to brush against the soft ones of her little dove, the electric tingle was no less potent. Her breath travelled through her trachea and out into the girl's hollow chest as the Queen lightly moaned from the sensation. Never before had something so overwhelming overtaken her; never had Ravenna known omnipotence until the walls of her entire being crumbled under the faintest touch of the feather-light kiss. And there was warmth. And for a moment, the Witch believed that it was hers and that the faint heartbeat of her cadaverous heart actually thrummed with the vigor eight centuries had taken away from her. Then she understood. In a flash Ravenna pulled away as though burned; stiffly staring at the impossibility unfolding in front of her. For it was Snow's warmth she had felt and Snow's heart beating strong. The velvet eyelashes fluttered as the girl took her first breath and opened her earthy-green eyes to take in the vision that was Ravenna.

No fear coalesced in those innocent eyes. There was only contentment intertwined with slight confusion. A shy blush colored the cheeks flushed with blood newly circulating through arteries and veins and capillaries. Delicate white teeth glinted in the candlelight as Snow opened her mouth, though she said nothing; only breathed. Ravenna had never been as completely confounded. Her fingers curled tighter against the dagger she still held in her lowered hand. The metal heated quickly despite her relative lack of heat to transfer. In that moment it was as though the very fabric of the universe had unraveled, as though all the Gods and heavenly beings had performed a feat of miraculous proportion, for it was quite clear what Snow's awakening meant.

"I missed you," the girl murmured, unsure of herself and aware that breaking the silence when she was being straddled by a woman intent on cutting out her heart might be less than beneficial for her wellbeing. Still, it had to be said and Snow regretted not a word of it.

Ravenna made a strangled sound at the back of her throat as her mind fought to regain control of the apocalyptic catastrophe that was her emotional state. Her mouth was slightly open, as though wanting to say something, but finding that her mastery of the common tongue had escaped her. The situation clearly called for some sort of declaration, whether it was to be an aggressive one or apologetic… or perhaps one of an entirely different nature. Snow saved her the trouble of sorting through her mental rubble for a sensible reply by pushing herself up and grabbing the front of Ravenna's dress before pulling them together and connecting their lips once more.

The softness of Snow's body against her own made Ravenna gasp against the girl's mouth, allowing Snow to nibble on her bottom lip. Her groan was followed by the Queen wrapping her right arm around Snow's back and bringing her left to entangle itself in thick dark locks. The lust burning in the pit of Ravenna's stomach raged for more, but she restrained her desires in fear of hurting the fragile girl in her embrace or worse, pushing her away by too bold of an advance. Snow's own inexperience and the sheer intensity of the simple touch she shared with the blonde woman made her completely unaware of the carnal needs of the Witch.

They pulled away from each other for air, Ravenna uttering an unsatisfied hiss despite her best efforts. Snow looked at her with concern, mistaking the pained expression on the other woman's face as a sign of Ravenna's darkness taking over. Not so long ago, Snow had consigned herself to her fate at the hands of the Witch, but after what they had just done, she found that there was a new desperation for life welling up within her body. She would fight for a millennium without respite if only to feel so close to Ravenna for a second time. Ravenna had turned away, gripping her weapon so hard that the hilt was burrowing small, bloody wounds in her palm. Snow instinctively grabbed the wounded hand and brought it to her lips, placing the lightest kiss on the knuckles until Ravenna dropped the dagger in shock.

"I don't like to see you hurt, especially when you are the cause of your own pain," Snow explained, her words tickling the skin over the Queen's white bones. The speechlessness returned like a cloud drifting past the sun, dousing the world in softer hues of color. The dark chamber and bright flames of the candles were somehow lessened in their contrast, instead merging together to form a new world of harmony.

"I-" Ravenna started. It was the first time she had spoken within the high chamber of marble and stone walls._ I… I what?_ A sudden sickness overtook her and she had to avert her gaze from the expectant one directed at her. She did not know what to say. If she were to apologize, then she would spend the rest of her existence apologizing and none of it would make a difference. How did one apologize for righteous anger that had spoiled and morphed into an abomination of itself? How did one apologize for countless crimes done when madness and noble intentions whispered honeyed reassurances in one's ears? How did one apologize for taking everything from a girl of seven and then asking for more? It was not possible. Ravenna felt the words die on the tip of her tongue. She could not speak the ending to her confession and besmirch the girl sitting beside her.

"You…" Snow, however, was unwilling to allow Ravenna such an easy retreat. She wanted to hear those words. She wanted them to be spoken aloud where they were no longer illusion; where they were solid and undeniable. "It's okay. I want to hear the rest."

Hope flickered through turbulent sea-green irises. A small, but genuine, smile graced the blonde's face and Snow had to remind herself how to breathe. Ravenna's hand came to rest against Snow's cheek as she whispered, "I lo-"

Before she could get any more out, a sharp pain spread its fiery wings throughout her body, centered in her chest. The physical shock was enough to cause Ravenna's body to double over. Her lungs heaved with the effort of keeping air moving in and out of them, each intake and exhale coming with its own horrible wave of torture. Snow's hands moved to grab at the Queen's arms and hands, but they were only slapped away. Behind the wall of agony a deep voice echoed through the Queen's head, calling for an end to the unbearable torment. Ravenna blindly found the knife she had dropped, lying on the furs beside her. A surprised squeak came from Snow as Ravenna's hands came up above her head with the dagger clasped tightly in her fingers. Snow's hands locked around the mad Witch's wrists, fighting against the inhuman strength of the magical woman. The crippling pain was the only saving grace for Snow; else she would have easily been overpowered. Only, mere seconds ago she had not even given the danger of the knife a thought.

"Stop, please!" Snow begged, feeling her arms ache from keeping the sharp steel away from her. This was not the Ravenna she had kissed. This was something else entirely. It was as though she was a rabid animal, viewing everything as an enemy to be eliminated.

"Please! This isn't you," she tried again. The green fire inside of Ravenna's eyes was frightening to behold, but there was also a sort of haze absent from the Queen's gaze when she was lucid. Placing all of her faith in her voice, Snow appealed, "I know you wouldn't hurt me. You saved me… more than once. So, please, don't be afraid of me."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as her arms gave way inch by inch to the superior force of Ravenna's will. There were only a few inches between her heart and the point of the wicked instrument. Snow battled on in vain, wondering why she had been given such a cruel moment of happiness only to have to suffer seeing the Queen fall into her murderous madness. The knife was cold against her exposed skin, easily making a small incision where the tip made contact. Three drops fell to color her white sleeping gown. And suddenly, the strong arms within her grasp fell limp and she was able to throw the blade across the room where it skittered into the shadows. Meeting the widened eyes of the Queen was like looking into a glass that showed the small, lost child within the cool exterior. Icy intent became unbalanced confusion which in turn became comprehending horror. Ravenna frantically moved away from Snow only to have the girl wrap her in her arms, holding tightly against the Witch's attempts to dislodge her.

"What have I done?" Ravenna repeatedly gasped as her hands went form pushing Snow away to holding her ever closer. She wanted, needed, reassurance that the girl was whole and uncut. "What have I done?"

"You didn't do anything," Snow reassured her. "You stopped yourself. I'm alright, I promise."

Rapid footfalls outside of the chamber broke the intimacy of the moment. Ravenna and Snow both turned to look at the opening door and the oncoming flood of the Duke's men. William was the first through, already loosing an arrow which found its mark deep inside Ravenna's shoulder blade. The following arrow buried itself in her side as she moved to block Snow with her body. Fire came with the pain and the Witch recognized the familiar burn of poison coursing through her body. A scream behind her had her whirl around to see whether Snow had been hurt. The girl seemed whole and healthy; William's skills had saved her from any harm. Above the voices and clamor of Eric shouting something and the knights urgently running toward Snow and the Queen, Ravenna couldn't help but smile at the fear evident in Snow's eyes. She had screamed for Ravenna. She had been afraid for her. Then she remembered the knife and how close she had been to selfishly killing the loving girl. Snow cared so deeply for her that she forgave Ravenna's every misstep, but the cost of it had become too apparent to her. She was not willing to take another chance when it came to Snow's life.

_By fairest blood it was done._

_And only by fairest blood can it be undone._

"Kill me," she whispered in Snow's ear before dissolving into ash and black feathers just as the Huntsman's hands closed over the space where her neck had been.

**P.S: Well, I suppose there is not much to say other than please review. It really makes me smile to know that people enjoy my writing... or even that they care enough to let me know that they don't enjoy it. Criticisms are always welcome, especially ones that help me further my writing prowess. I hope you enjoyed- let me know by clicking that button below- and I should have the next chapter up by the start of the weekend if not earlier. Blame the teachers that bury me in avalanches of paperwork for delays. If I ruled the world, homework would be a punishment for murderers and war criminals. Bye for now! :)**


	4. The Rose and The Raven

**A/N: Hello lovely people! Here is chapter four, the chapter before the finale. So don't worry it is not the last one. However, because of content that will be displayed in the next, and final, installment of this fic, I will have to change the rating to M before posting it. I will mark where the content begins and ends for those of you who would rather skip it, no worries there. But, that isn't until next time... whenever that is in the near future. It is rather short in comparison to the other chapters, but I do still need to revise it before gifting it to the world. Grammatical errors are beyond embarrassing. Well, no use jabbering on... here is the update!**

**Disclaimer: I would cry tears of joy if I suddenly came to own the rights to everything Snow White and the Huntsman, but until then I own only my dreams and my hole-ridden sneakers. I make no profit from any of this.**

Snow sat beside the marble dais where she had laid, dead or dormant, only a few hours before. She had been given a room with every comfort she could have desired and more, but sleep had evaded her regardless. In the cold sheets, alone and surrounded by the shadows of the moonless night, she found herself tracing her way back to the cold marble room. She didn't know what she had expected to find in the coolness of the massive chamber, but whatever it was no longer existed within the expansive space. She had trailed a finger along the furs lying limply over the edges of the large rectangular prism of stone, but no warmth remained in them save for places too near to the waning candles. One feather remained stuck in the tangled mesh of animal pelts, glowing in patterned shades of obsidian and copper. Snow had plucked it out, marveling at how smooth the vanes felt against her palm and the bottom of her fingertips. After staring transfixed for longer than was prudent, she tucked it inside of her chemise where it lay against the skin above her heart. The golden flames flickered against the columns and arches and steps, bathing the room in dancing shades and specters. Twice, Snow had found herself whipping around in search of emerald eyes or a silver flicker of fabric. She had run through the darkened outer corridors of the room, separated by the massive pillars upholding the roof far above her head, only to find that she was in the company of no one.

After a most vivid and utterly disappointing chase of phantoms, she had tiredly sat down and propped her back against her memorial. It had been a strange thing to die… if she had in fact died at all instead of drifting through a state of perpetual limbo. Not quite peaceful, but not as frightening as she would have expected.

_Kill me._

Snow's spine crawled at the memory of those words drifting into her ear. Of all of the things Ravenna could have asked of her. Anything. Snow would have done it. She would have forgotten all of her friends and allies if the Queen had asked her to run away. She would have forgiven everything if only to hear Ravenna speak her name in her silken manner. But the Queen had demanded the impossible. Snow could not quell the rising, frantic heartbeat in her chest whenever she saw the gossamer sunshine hair and gentle pine eyes in her dreams. She could not deny the pull she felt each time she was near the older woman; a pull that would lead Snow to her sweet doom over leagues of emptiness. She was not as strong, or as insane, as the harsh ages had made Ravenna. She could never bring herself to raise the knife, much less plunge it into pliable flesh. Not if it was _her_ flesh.

As if her thoughts summoned it from the depths of Hell, Snow's eyes found the discarded dagger beside a darkened wall. The wicked edge and menacing point flashed with a malevolent ethereal glow that had nothing to do with the writhing flames atop their shortening wicks. She drew closer to the hated metal aberration. The carved handle beckoned to be taken and the cruel curve of the blade whispered crimson promises. Snow could see the slightly reddened tip from where it had nicked her skin. A finger came up to touch the tiny scab that can formed. It was finer than a cat's claw, but stung nevertheless. Placing more pressure, Snow winced as her nail broke through the fine layer of platelets. The blood formed a film over the opened flesh, but there was not enough of it to drip down. A superficial scratch. So why did it make her chest throb with suppressed agony?

Snow did not know how she felt the dawn break, but at some point she knew that it would be best to return to her chambers. She stared at the dagger on the floor, accepting its challenge by curling her delicate hand over the cool pummel and then sliding her fingers down to clutch the handle. It was lighter than the size made it appear, though the quality could have been magically infused into the weapon. Whatever it was, it did not matter to her. Quietly as a mouse, she slipped out of the haunting room and fled to the confines of the medium-sized room where she was supposed to be.

"Where were you?" the voice startled her, eliciting a rather embarrassing squeak. Snow's hands quickly brought the knife behind her back and she desperately prayed that her visitor had not seen it.

"Eric?" Snow replied, unsure what to say about his unannounced presence in her quarters. He was sitting by the fireplace, still lit by the embers of the dying flames. His face was haggard and tired, not supposing that Snow looked any better. The war had taken its toll on all of them.

"I just wanted to check if you were alright," he explained in his low, gruff tone. _I wanted to make sure you were real_, was the unspoken addition. Snow felt a biting guilt at making him worry by her absence. She had been so obsessed with her own melodramatic predicaments that she had completely disregarded the feelings of her friends. It scared her at times, how Ravenna could utterly dominate her every thought with only a bat of her eyelash. It was unfair to those who had sacrificed so much to aid Snow and keep her alive from the very person she would willingly forsake them for. There was no cure for it though; not unless Snow found some way to cut her heart out of her chest and place it in a box where it would no longer hold sway over her morality.

"I'm fine," Snow assured. She moved around to her bed, careful to keep her trinket well away from view. When she reached the goose-feather comforter and mattress, she allowed her exhausted body to sink into the cushions. Her eyes gazed up at the ceiling, wondering how she would get through the impending days. The Duke was marshaling his forces in preparation for storming Ravenna's castle with Snow leading the vanguard. So many faces swam against the dark mahogany bed frame, all of them looking to her for leadership. She felt her body constrict and her breath come up short and shaky. She was not ready to lead, to rule. She was only a child who had been thrust into the wide world after spending more than half of her life in the confines of a tower cell. She was no Queen. She was a dove, fluttering against its bars and faltering under the weights of responsibility chained to her legs.

The bed sheets shifted as a new depression formed beside Snow. She scooted to the side, allowing the giant Huntsman to move so he was not precariously tipping over the edge of the small piece of furniture. His hands crossed behind his head and his eyes focused on the spot Snow had been intently observing a few seconds ago. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His hair was still matted, though she could see that someone had gotten him into a bath as it lacked the dirt and grime of the forest. His beard, however, remained wild and untouched. She smiled at the thought of him threatening the washer woman. She had a good friend in him. It saddened her to see the pain he still felt whenever the ghost of his past darkened his eyes. Yet another victim of war; and here she was, throwing him into another one.

"I don't know if you heard what I said while you were…" he couldn't bring himself to say the words. The tears were choked down in his rough manner; he was an unbreakable rock even now.

Snow shook her head, "No, it was… just black with some flashes of color here and there. No sound."

He huffed. It sounded defeated, but also relieved. Eric turned to his side, propping his head on his hand while bracing his elbow against the satin covers. A fledgling smile played across his lips as he looked at her and it made Snow feel uncomfortable in her skin. She desperately wanted the look to be something innocent, to be a misjudgment on her part.

"I suppose that is a good thing," he said. "It's not something a man should say when he cannot receive an answer. Though I would think that you, being here, would be enough to convince me."

"Convince you?" Snow murmured, uncertain as to where this was going.

Her answer was his free hand cupping her cheek and turning her face so that he could envelop her lips in his. The bristles of his beard scratched against her skin and Snow's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her hand slipped against the cover and sliced itself against the knife she had set underneath her body. Her gasp was taken as an invitation and he drew in for a deeper kiss. As he pulled away, as though partaking in a secret, he whispered, "I love you, Snow."

_He thinks he saved me,_ Snow realized, and then, even more shocking, _he loves me!_ Her body suddenly felt weak and her jaw quivered with the need to say something. Here he was, baring his soul to her, and all Snow could think of was how much she had longed to hear those words come from a different set of lips.

"Snow?" Eric's happy confidence was still present, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his chuckle. He was waiting for her answer. Snow could see the glimmer of his forget-me-not blue eyes flicker under the pressure of her continued silence; speechlessness, as an excuse, had run its course. She had to pull herself together and tell him… what? That she held deep affections for the last person in the world that deserved them? That the one who had brought about the desolation and death of the land and its people was the one whose arms Snow craved to encircle her? Somehow she didn't see that as going over well with the passionate Huntsman.

Still, it was careless for her to keep staring at him like some mentally handicapped simpleton. Clearly finding nothing of value to say, the girl was nevertheless able to utter a strangled, "Th-that was… nice?"

_What the fuck!_ She screamed at herself. _'That was nice?' Of all of the stupid things-_

"Umm, thanks?" Eric was the very image of disappointment. Snow's heart sank to her ankles at his deflated manner, but she did nothing to stop him from picking himself off of the bed. He awkwardly stood beside the four-poster as though hoping that she would call him back.

"I'm sorry," was all she could think to reply. And she truly was. Not for her feelings, but for his tragedy. He had lost his first love and now his second was rejecting him without enough courage to voice her reasons. Snow, wanted to reach out to him so badly, but she was afraid the gesture would be taken as more than what it was. Though her voice was hollow and the words meant nothing, she said them anyway, "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" he asked, his eyes vacant of anything. The emptiness behind the cerulean iris was worse than any degree of rage or spite.

"I-" Snow began, quickly finding that she could not continue. She had no promises or consolations that would make any of this better. There was only the all-consuming emptiness.

"Was it William then?"

The thought surprised her. William? Had Eric seen her kiss him in the forest when Ravenna wore his skin? But he would have come the moment the Queen had revealed herself if that had been the case. Then, Snow remembered the slight pressure on her lips just before slipping unconscious.

_William._

He had been her friend since they were children and she loved him dearly, but it was the love she held for Eric and her family. A love that came without the physical need that always ate away at her whenever she found her thoughts drifting to the high walled castle of her birth and the one who ruled it now. She wished it was simpler. She wished it were Eric or William who had stolen her heart, but life was never a fairytale. It was full of struggle and strife. And Snow was no saint. She had hurt her people by turning a blind eye to them for the year that she lived under Ravenna's protective wing. She could have visited the market, or taken that glimpse outside; even under Ravenna's watchful eye- she had escaped the guards when she had been locked up in the North Tower for God's sake. But holding onto Ravenna's favor had made her careless and comfortable. Snow cringed as the door closed behind her friend as he exited the room, leaving her with her memories of ravens and magic.

It had only been a few minutes before a distraught handmaiden burst into her room, flying into a hasty curtsy before squealing, "The Huntsman and the Duke's son, My Lady, they are fighting each other in the courtyard!"

Snow rapidly donned on a coat of ermine and some wool slippers before following the retreating maid. She had not even thought to deny Eric's insinuation of her feelings toward William and now she was once again hurting those she cared for through her ignorance. The thought of their confrontation spurred her to sprint faster down the foggy corridors. She never slowed, not even when the hall ended in a bright doorway that led out into the main castle courtyard.

A small crowd had gathered around the expansive space. Snow saw that some of the soldiers were tending to injuries sustained from attempts at breaking up the fight; the rest warily kept as much distance between themselves and the two combatants as possible.

Eric swung his hefty axe in a deadly arch, missing the agile archer by a mere few centimeters. William's eyes narrowed as he notched an arrow and let loose only to hit a barrel behind where the Huntsman had been standing seconds before. The butt of the axe's shaft hit the bow and snapped the wood in half. It had been meant for the fleshy area of the younger man's stomach, but quick thinking had spared the nobleman's son. However, William was at a serious disadvantage with no weapon whilst Eric still held a firm grip on his. Watching the match degenerate quickly into a potential bloodbath, Snow rushed out of the circle of servants and armored men.

Her voice was more forceful than she thought was possible for her, but her temper was flaring at the childish behavior displayed by the two, "Stop!"

Eric lowered his blade at once, looking like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. William threw the remains of his hunter's bow on the muddy ground, giving his taller opponent a frustrated shove as they came to stand before her. Snow looked at them both, sweaty and disheveled, wondering what to say now that they were both looking at her. Their hostility toward one another shimmered in the gusts of warm air forming clouds as they escaped their lips. Again, Snow found herself presented with an impossible decision. She could not speak the words true to her heart in fear of losing them both as friends, but their scuffle had only proven that her silence was tearing them away just as easily.

"Snow," William spoke first, seeing his chance whilst the Huntsman and his beloved childhood friend stayed unmoving, "Tell him that it was my kiss that saved you. Tell him."

His eagerness shined in his olive eyes, the unruly hair obscuring the top of the iris in shadow, "I've loved you since we were children and I know that you love me. It just took a while for the spell to be broken, is all."

Snow watched him. His shy smile gaining confidence until it spread in a glorious display of white teeth. She saw the mischievous boy who had climbed apple trees with her and nursed birds back to health. She had loved him, still loved him, but it was not the kind of love he wanted from her. She waited for the same realization to dawn on him, waiting for his grin to falter as Eric's had in her bedroom. Only, it was not his realization, but the Huntsman's.

"She doesn't love you either," he whispered, perplexed. William shot him a furious look, fists clenched tightly by his sides and aching to bury his knuckles into Eric's face.

"Of course she does," he whirled around, staring down the mystified man despite his smaller stature. "How else would she be awake? She told you that she didn't want you."

"Bastard," was the warning growl before Snow stepped in between them, a hand on each man's shoulder. Her frail body would not have been much of a buffer for their strength, but she knew that they cared for her and would not cause her physical harm.

"Snow, tell him," William defiantly glared, his hand coming to wrap itself around her chilled fingers. The warmth in it was like fire, not the subtlety of the Queen's hold, and the skin was rough with callouses from sparring. His gaze was fixed upon Eric's unblinking cerulean irises even as he addressed her. Just as with Eric, Snow fought to bring words to her lips, to encounter something within her mind that would disperse the doubt and fear coiled inside of her. The seconds turned to minutes as she stood, still as a statue, with her two pillars on either side, threatening to collapse and crush her.

"Snow," the name was choked out in desperation, "tell him."

"I-I" she stammered. Her shoulders drooped in utter defeat, her hands slipping down their arms to hang limply by her sides. "I can't, William."

Her eyes were swimming in tears yet to fall. She hoped that she could rein them in for a moment longer as she faced the complete disbelief etched into every fiber of her best friend's expression. The shock never left, only flickered away to be replaced with sadness and hurt every so often. His mouth hung slightly ajar, as though wanting to say something that was impossible to put into words. Snow knew the feeling all too well.

"W-what do you mean, you can't?"

"She means," Eric's gruff undertone interrupted anything Snow might have said, "that you weren't the one to break the curse."

William's eyes had briefly met the Huntsman's, but returned to the young Princess, "Then, it was him? You chose him?"

"No, William, I-" the words spilled forth like an uncontrollable deluge only to be cut short again. Silently, Snow finished her thought where it could not cause any further damage, _I am in love with Ravenna._

"His kiss didn't wake you up?" William's enthusiasm hit hard and Snow finally felt the twinge of irritation overpower her concern for their feelings.

"No! It didn't. And neither did yours for that matter so don't look at me like I'm going to suddenly fall into your arms by default! I just woke up from being dead, or in limbo, and not even a day has passed before you two are at each other's throats because of your stupid presumptions! I love you both as brothers and dear, dear friends, but I can't give you what you want."

Her breathing was erratic as she turned on her heel and stomped off. The familiar creeping guilt brushed its withering fingers against her retreating form but she ran faster than their shouts could reach her. Before she knew it, she was back in the room with the door slamming behind her back. Her exhausted body slid down the frame of the sturdy wood, glad for the support as she hit the floor below. Her tears finally burst; leaving her shoulders shaking as she buried her head inside the alcove formed by her knees and arms. Her hair enveloped her like a blanket of black space, the candlelight reflecting off of the wild locks like the rays of stars. Snow sniffed, wishing the darkness behind her eyelids would envelop her and never let her go into the world of color and life. Obsidian burst with circles of color as she pressed her face into her arms until her nose stung with the pressure.

She shifted out of her fetal position only after her hands and feet had grown numb from lack of blood. The sharp pricks of the limbs coming back to life stung with each step that brought her closer to the bed and the item lying half wrapped in silken sheets. She lightly touched the place where she had cut herself and then the tiny scratch above her heart where the blade had kissed her under the command of another wielder. A faint blush covered Snow's cheeks at the thought of another kiss, one much sweeter and warmer than the steel's bite. Her fingers delicately traced the contours of her lower lip, imagining Ravenna as the slight trailed along her mouth. The fire spreading into her lower abdomen was unexpected and completely overwhelming, drowning Snow in a wave of want more abysmal than the blackened depths of the ocean. Her free hand slid down to cup her heat, making her gasp from the welcome pressure her fingers exerted on the sensitive flesh. Lying back, her charcoal hair fanned out like a halo of obsidian as though commemorating her light's corruption as she gave herself to the carnal desires within.

Something cold grazed her gooseflesh covered skin, snapping her from her revelry. Green eyes snapped open, her hands withdrawing to clutch at the fabric draped over the bed by her sides. Snow's breath came in frantic inhales and exhales, trying, with little avail, to calm the flaring lust coiling around her petite frame. The blade was the only thing keeping her grounded; the flat of the dagger pressed against her bare arm, a reminder that dangerous things lurked in the shadows. _Dangerous things,_ Snow thought, _and beautiful things._Only, the shadows seemed to forever reject her; drawing to consume her until there was nothing of her left, yes, but never was she able to step into the black abyss and feel a part of the mysteries held beyond sight. And Snow was desperate to reach inside and find the one she craved to the point of insanity.

_Kill me._

Snow curled into a ball, clutching the cruel blade in her hands until she could not feel her hands and the hilt was engraved in her skin. She felt weak just holding the thing, not even able to conceive using it against its mistress. No matter how many leagues separated them, the magic tying the knife to the Witch resonated through the young girl's frame, both soothing and treacherous.

She had no account of the passage of time in the dimly lit room. The heavy curtains had been drawn, casting everything in an ethereal shade of grey and dark hues of green and blue. The fireplace in the corner had been used to heat the room for the night once Snow had been found awake, but now it lay dormant, the wood reduced to small hills of ash. Everything was ash; the apple on her tongue, the words Ravenna spoke through William's tongue, the convictions she held as a child of good and evil, even her very heart. And all Snow could care to think about were the few stolen moments of life when Ravenna had smiled at her or caressed her cheek or placed a plucked rose into her hair.

A knock came from behind the heavy doors cutting Snow off from the rest of the world. She had not felt less willing to accommodate a visitor in all of her years it seemed, and yet, there really was no way for her to get around summoning them in. They were at war after all. That the Duke had not called upon her earlier had been unexpected at the least.

"Come in," Snow sighed, slipping her steel secret under a pillow. She was sick of cutting herself on the thing by stashing it upon her person.

A serving girl of no more than twelve stepped shyly into the somber room, shuffling from foot to foot as she stumbled over her words, "T-the D-Duke and his son, W-William that is, and the o-other man… they want to s-speak with y-you about the battle plans… about the assault on the castle that is… uh… and…"

"Where are they meeting?" Snow took pity on the stammering wreck of a child. She held no quarrel with the people of the old lord's castle and didn't see a reason to further the discomfort of her messenger.

"T-they… I will… uh, show you."

"Alright… I didn't catch your name," Snow pleasantly said though her smile never reached her eyes. Moving from the bed, she realized that she was still wearing the mismatched ensemble she had hastily thrown on before running to the courtyard to stop her best friends from killing one another.

"Jeyne, if it please Milady… My Princess, I mean!" the girl, Jeyne, corrected, her voice rising an octave on the last word.

"Jeyne," Snow walked over to where her bell-sleeved dress and brown trousers had been neatly place over a chair. "I only require a minute to dress into something more comfortable and appropriate. Then I will let you lead the way to the Duke."

The Duke was standing amongst a crowd of soldiers and peasants in the main courtyard, just behind the portcullis. His face reflected the apprehension felt by all, but some light returned at the sight of her. Her breath came out in gusts as the night air froze it into miniscule globules of water. Amazed whispers followed her approach; the tales of her miraculous recovery spreading like wild fire to ignite the resolve of the people. Only Snow felt the chill of their stares.

William met her first, clasping her hand as a show of support and apology. His eyes flickered with uncertainty toward the Huntsman and then back to her as though asking a silent question, but fearing the answer. Somehow, Snow could not bring herself to believe that he still held the notion that she loved Eric over him. No, there was a deeper conclusion and it was one that she dreaded he had come to guess.

He followed her as Snow came to stand before his father. The Duke's eyes searched her face for the little girl he had known; had seen running through the wheat fields with his son in tow. There was barely a hint of the childish naivety, gone and replaced by something harder and nobler; and then there was also something darker in the luminous eyes.

"Death has favored you," he spoke, uncertain of how he should proceed when staring at the willful girl, no, woman, before him.

"Death favors no man," Snow replied, though she could barely fit all of the instances she had evaded it on her two hands. She had stayed too long without a decision, letting the pain of her people and her Queen carry on for too long. Snow held no misconceptions about her course and what it entailed. "We must ride like the thundering waves under the banner of my father."

"You must rest."

_You do not understand,_ Snow mentally wailed. If she rested any longer, she knew that she would forsake all so as to avoid any confrontation with Ravenna. "We have rested too long."

Afraid that he would quell her sudden surge of assuredness, Snow turned to address the entire assembly of soldiers. She knew not what she said, speaking from within without truly hearing. It was the torrent she felt; the crash of the storm, the defiance of the trees, the life of the land. It was the voice of everything spilling forth in a deluge finally breaking through the dam that had restrained it for far too long. And then she found herself once more, only to bring forth what she had never before been able to voice aloud,"For I have seen what she sees… I know what she knows…"

_Snow and blood and screams of the dying. Frost and pain as the sword cut through flesh and the dagger plunged into sinew, only to hold no mortality at the tip. A faint smile, rare as a winter flower. The red rose and the green garden. Blonde and ebony fanning intertwined, against pillows soft as clouds. A faint smell of milk and honey and… something else Snow had not been able to guess._

_By fairest blood it was done and…_

_Only by fairest blood can it be…_

_Undone._

"I can kill her," Snow choked back the sobs, aware that any sign of tears would break the newly forged trust they had in her. This was to be their rallying call and she had to stand firm against their fears. Her… alone… because she was truly the only one able to free Ravenna; even if that meant losing her.

~o()o~

The Mirror was dimmer than Ravenna had seen it. It looked almost… sickly in the pale fire dying within its hearth at the center of the half-globe chamber. Her hand traced a faint layer of dust away from the ever smooth surface, gazing in wonderment at the film that had glazed the seemingly eternal polished sheen. Never had any particle of the realm of mortals been able to come into contact with the thrumming, magical circle. Her skin still vibrated with the resonance of its power, though the shock of electricity that coursed through her, lighting every cell on fire, was no longer as potent as it had been. Her face was contorted in its befuddlement and concern for her protector. Its weakness only meant her own after all.

The thought gave her pause, remembering the whispered plea in the Duke's castle. Her conviction waned with each stroke across the glossed surface of gold. The face gave way just enough to encompass her fingers as a hand formed to grasp her own. The hooded head emerged next, its curtained cloak dripping in liquid metal like some forgotten god set free from its chains.

_"My Queen," _even the voice was quieter, less resounding. Ravenna's free hand came up to caress the indent of the cheek she would never see. The cool spreading past her fingertips and into her bloodstream was pure bliss. The final vestiges of flame within her were extinguished, unable to fight against the waves of blood magic so far from the source of the fire. Snow White.

She had awoken Snow White. The Queen's emerald eyes searched the nonexistent ones of her servant, "What is this? What is she? Why me?"

_"She is our salvation and our doom, My Queen. Her heart is strong… perhaps even stronger than your own. But the crimson droplets of life flowing through her veins hold the key to immortality. Is that not what you wish for? Is that not what your mother wished for?"_

The words stung more sharply than any needle. Ravenna could no longer bear to search the empty hollow of a face for her answers. It displayed none of the affection or warmth she craved. Olive eyes filled her vision and her eyes swam with tears.

_"Your people; your mother; your brother; they all died for this… you cannot fail them now, when you are so close," _the Mirror slid to stand behind her, wrapping its arms around her tightly. Ravenna's chest heaved as she fought to keep the breath in her lungs. Her hands came to rest atop the forearms of her guardian.

"I want her," she murmured. The statement made the hold the Mirror had on her constrict to the point of her ribs protesting with a warning burst of pain.

_"She amasses an army against you even now."_

"I know," the sadness refused to be withheld, spilling past Ravenna's defenses. It had been she who had given Snow the order to end her. The rebellious part of her head cried for the oblivion that the young girl brought with the point of her sword, but the animalistic instinct for survival clouded her judgment with fear and desperation. She had lived for nearly a millennium, reigned victorious over age and physical corruption where others had always succumb, and the prospect of the finality of death gripped her cold heart in terror. Even now, with Snow leagues away, Ravenna could feel her mind pulsate with the mixed desire to rip the girl's heart out of her chest and the need to wrap Snow in her arms and never let go.

_"We must persevere, My Queen," _her golden companion hissed, its syllables echoing from the smooth stones. _"Snow White is a passing glimmer, albeit one that shines brightly. What is one girl in comparison to the omnipotent?"_

Ravenna bit her lip, her mind answering in two voices, each vehement and overpowering:

_Nothing!_

_Everything!_

"She is Snow White," was her reply. In the name were all the paradoxes of the universe in its perfection of ugliness and beauty, love and hatred, death and life. "And I crave for her to be mine!"

_"She will never be yours as long as her heart beats within her chest. Take the heart and you take her essence. Eat it… and you take her soul within you. Forever connected and forever inseparable,"_ Ravenna felt something cold slip into her ear. She turned her head away reflexively, but a strong hand came to grip her chin so as to hold her in place. Her mouth opened to scream only for the sound to die with a gurgle in her throat. Instead, a stream of molten metal slid out from between her lips. Tendrils of golden tears dripped out of her eyes as the green iris was overtaken by overshadowed sunlight. The support of the Mirror left her; the Queen's body fell to its knees from the overbearing weight of the dark entity entering her arteries and veins, solidifying and suffocating her heart.

When she was finally able to rise, the Queen's posture was one of a doll pulled by invisible strings. Her eyes had returned to a stormy green, but the usual grey outlining the intense jade was flecked with tiny pinpricks of gold dust. The Queen turned, staring into the reflection given off by the empty vessel that had once been the Mirror, noting the way the quartz crown and armored gown consumed the flames in their Stygian depths. The traces of insecurity and doubt were gone from the flawless face, replaced by a cruel smirk and malevolent crease in the fine eyebrows.

Emerging from the sanctuary, the puppet Witch beckoned to her two captains, 'Where are they?"

"Amassed on the cliffs," the first man said concisely as they emerged into the open air.

"Their numbers have swollen," the second added. "They say that the King's standard flies again."

Ravenna leaned against the bannister of the balcony, observing the outlying landscape and catching a glimpse of spearheads and steel helmets glinting in the faint light. Her smile only widened, "Then let them come. Let them break their skulls against these stone walls… and bring me my prize."

~o()o~

Snow's head pounded in sync with the fall of her horse's hooves against the wet sand. Above and ahead loomed the darkened towers of the place she had called her home for most of her life. Her grim expression was reflected by the bleak sky overhead and she silently prayed to no one in particular that it would not rain.

Large boulders doused in raging flames flew past the walls, streaking black smoke as they came to crash upon the beach, sending sprays of moist sediment flying in all directions. Horses and men screamed in terror as the meteors fell in their path. The thunderous impacts shook the earth until it became impossible for the knights to control their mounts, stallions rearing and flailing wildly in search of shelter from the barrage. Volleys of arrows followed, painting the sky a shimmering black before they whistled into the surf or lodged themselves into the vulnerable flesh between layers of plate. Snow dared not turn back to look at the carnage scattered across the waves and sand. The cries were enough indication of the plight of her men and she feared that her resolve would be mortally crippled if she were to add visible images to her already terrified senses. An arrow came to thunk against her shield, shaking her to her very bones. The fear of death had not seemed real as her gallant column had marched through the gates of Duke Hammond's castle, but it had been nearly a hair's breadth away from her at the hands of the unforgiving iron shaft.

Ahead loomed the heavy gate, its jaws tightly clamped into the soft earth, affording no entry into the courtyard beyond where a regiment of black knights stood in wait. Snow's horse reared, clapping its hooves against the metal with enough force to send sparks flying, but otherwise bearing little effect on the barred pathway. Behind her, more shouting and shrieks echoed as bodies crashed against one another in an attempt to get out of range of the archers on the walls.

"We must turn back!" William called from her side, waving his bow as though unsure of where to aim it. The desperation rolled off of him and his stead in poignant waves. The ocean had turned crimson and bloody as the froth came over the corpses littering the perimeter of the castle.

Still, Snow knew there was nothing to turn back to. If they did not win here, there would be nowhere for them to go. No future to escape to. Fighting to keep hold of the reins, she raised her voice to be heard over the sound of battle, "No! I gave my word!"

Just as the words left her chapped lips, the massive portcullis heaved a great sigh and became unstuck from its muddy restraints. The gate opened slowly at first, but then with more speed as the hidden weights bore down on it. Snow's breath released in a grateful rush, knowing her friends had survived the climb through the sewage system to the inner castle. Taking no more precious time, she entered the yard. Orders were called out and her forces coalesced into a phalanx, shields facing the enemy as they came crashing down on them. The spears poked at the chinks in the wall of metal aegis, but rarely did they hit a mark. For each man that fell, another came to take his place, ensuring the wall of bodies would not break.

Snow's sword slashed out, catching one of the guards with a glancing blow to the arm. His attention diverted from the offensive to defend against another cut. Snow advanced alongside her men, tasting sweat and blood as her tongue flicked against her dry lips. They were pushing the Queen's guards back, forcing them into a slow retreat toward the stairs leading into the castle. Snow could almost see the door she had run through in search of William after the sack of her home all of those years ago.

And then Snow was aware of the loss of the man next to her. Almost as if by some dark magic, the phalanx dissolved in a mass of uncoordinated movement. Behind, some men were screaming in pain as thick, burning tar was poured from the murder holes above the gate. Frantic men pushed against one another in a frantic attempt to escape the seething oil spilling out and instantaneously melting their flesh to the bone.

A cool shiver wracked Snow's frame, compelling her to gaze up, above the horrifying scene of battle and death. Overhead, standing with her hands neatly propped against the smoky grey stone balustrade, was the Queen. The subtle light spilling through the clouds bathed Ravenna in an ethereal glow, her hair glistening like a halo against the ebony quartz dress that hugged her curves in a devastatingly sensual manner. The spiked crown atop the golden curls was nearly as cruel and terrible to behold, glimmering in triumphant radiance. Her green and grey eyes met Snow's with a fierce antipathy that was nearly crippling in its distaste. Pale pink lips curled in a disdainful smirk as the blonde woman turned away from the younger girl and slowly walked into the tower. The gesture was almost challenging, goading Snow to follow and face the woman she feared and loved so dearly.

Time had slowed as Snow had watched Ravenna, but it came back to its hectic pace with the sword arc that nearly lopped her head from her shoulders. Snow's shield caught the blow in time, but it staggered her. The next cut was more easily dodged and she followed through with an attack of her own. The charcoal armor rippled over the muscles bunching as her opponent readied for another series of clashes. Snow met each blow with either shield or sword, forcing the man back until he lost his footing against a burning pile of wood. Snow did not hesitate, running her blade through the vulnerable junction between the breastplate and shoulder guard. The chainmail and sinew gave way easily before the thrust of her steel. Slick red blood coated the metal as she slid it out of the fallen man's corpse. There was no time to dwell on what she had done. She needed to reach Ravenna. Taking one last glance at the stilled soldier, Snow dashed for the stairs.

The staircases felt twice as long and winding as they ever had. The heavy armor felt hot and uncomfortable against her feverish skin. Every time her knees lifted her calves, the metal bit into her tender skin, distracting her with the cumbersome loss of agility. Still, she felt much better with the plate than if she would have had to fight Ravenna without it. Crashes behind her spurred her to run faster as she was uncertain who her pursuers were loyal to. All she knew was that the Witch was waiting at the top of the staircase and it was up to Snow to save her. She would be Ravenna's salvation, no matter who or what stood in her way.

The carved double doors of oak stood ever so slightly ajar, as if in anticipation for Snow's arrival. Her hair clung to her sweaty brow as she stopped briefly to catch her breath, hands resting against her knees and the hilt of her bloodied sword weighing down her tired right arm. The tip of the weapon rested against the cool stone, leaving a slight mark as it scraped across the surface of the floor. She let out a grunt of exertion as she forced the massive entrance open, revealing the space beyond and the form of its lone resident. Snow's eyes lifted slightly, allowing her to peer through the loose strands of charcoal locks into the room before her. The towering windows lining the hall bathed it in light that seemed almost misplaced in the darkness that lined the circular room at its end. The blazing fire in the center of the pit threw long shadows in writhing masses against the deep grey of the castle walls. The intertwined shades caused a sense of vertigo to overtake Snow as her pupils traced the pathway leading up to the stairs and then ascending them until she was staring straight at the proud figure of the Witch Queen.

Ravenna had her back turned to Snow as though not wishing to notice her presence. The heavy shield fell from its place as Snow shrugged off the bands of leather securing it to her left forearm. Her head was held high, refusing to show the hesitancy she felt growing in her chest cavity. She strode quickly to the stairs, waiting for any indication that the Witch had come to sense her approach. the cool grey-green eyes came to fall upon her. Snow's bravery froze in the back of her throat, suffocating her as it blocked her air passages. The black dress worn by the Queen glimmered in a thousand different colors of yellow and white mixed with ebony quartz. The spines of the neckline dug into the porcelain skin like raven's talons, eerily dark against the milky expanse. The Queen turned to face the girl, sensing her growing wariness and absorbing the cold fear emanating from her with relish. Her hands held no weapons, unassumingly tucked behind her back as she brought her torso to face the oncoming heroine. And Snow shivered as her eyes searched for a familiar hint of warmth or recognition, only to be greeted by abysmal emptiness in pools of charcoal.

Clatters of metal against metal and stone echoed from behind, breaking the trance which had come to envelop Snow and the Witch. Snow cast a quick glance over her shoulder, finding Eric and William entering the chamber, followed by a small contingent of men. Ravenna too peered at the unwelcome visitors, a faint grin twitching across her ghostly lips. The magic surged to the tips of her fingers and ran through invisible webs to the ceiling of the grand hall, connecting with the ebony quartz and bestowing the cold rock with the breath of life, unbeknownst to the unfortunates who had just walked straight to their deaths.

The boom was like thunder, shaking the foundations of the room as the fragments of sorcery rained down upon the soldiers in tiny piercing points. Shields immediately went to protect their bearers against the worst of the deluge, but had Ravenna wished for them to have died quickly, she would not have given them the time to prepare for her oncoming attack. The few who were unlucky enough to have lost their shields, or had not been afforded with one, were felled instantly upon impact, their screams coming to grace the Queen's ears in a sweet serenade. Her smile widened wickedly as she watched their bodies connect with the cold tile and lie motionless as rigor mortis set into their joints. Had they not been so far away, she was certain that she would have witnessed the light leave their eyes as their final exhale of breath left their lungs.

Snow cringed as the sounds of bone cracking and flesh tearing filled the spacious room, but she dared not turn away from the Witch standing so close to her. A flicker of movement and the flash of an axe's blade gave her hope that her friends were relatively unharmed and, thankfully, alive. Only, the smug triumph Ravenna wore on her face betrayed that there was more to come. The rustling of moving quartz against stone and the shuffling of feet reached her just as she witnessed the torrent of blades spinning into the air reflect off of Ravenna's emerald irises. The demonic growls were too much and Snow risked the moment to search out her companions and learn of their fate.

Her eyes widened, unable to completely comprehend what was happening. Dark, vile things made of teeth and diamond-hard flesh.

"Come," a guttural command, almost bitten out, filled with disdain and anger, "and avenge your father, who was too _weak_ to raise his sword."

The fire burning within Snow's veins was one she had never felt before, even when holding onto Ravenna after her resurrection. It was wrath, pure and overpowering, consuming every doubt and feeling of love she had held for the woman facing her. Her opponent. Her enemy. Her murderer.

Her attack was transparent and easily deflected, sending her sprawling to the floor. Snow's eyes couldn't focus, seeing too much red to discern any advantageous position. And all the while, she could only hear the roar in her ears and the words that cut through her more fiercely than knives.

She came at the Queen again, her sword coming within inches of piercing flesh before the blade was wrenched away from its target with inhuman strength. Her trajectory quickly went from forward to down as she hit the floor in a tumble of metal-incased limbs. The shallow cut her sword had made in the flesh of her nemesis sealed without so much as a scratch. And Snow could taste it in the metallic tanginess of the blood that filled her mouth from where her teeth had connected with her tongue; she could taste that she was losing.

She was dragged up by the rim of her armor, her face cupped by a clawed hand and forced to face the horrendous scene unfolding in the adjoined room. The Duke's men, her father's men, her men, were dying. It was no battle, it was a massacre. The quartz warriors tore through metal and flesh as though they were thin as paper. The cries of agony from the dying and the blood pouring out of the dead brought a sickening sense of vertigo, distorting the world around Snow until she was sure that she was sinking in madness. And all the while her nose inhaled the scent of milk and honey she still adored.

"Watch them die," the words were said into her ear, borne on breath that sent shivers down Snow's spine, though whether they were produced from her aversion to the scene playing out before her or exhilaration from the closeness Ravenna shared with her, Snow could not profess to know. The next words caused the crimson liquid running through her veins to freeze solid, "How does it feel knowing you were the one who led them to their deaths?"

She closed her eyes, willing the images to stop, only for them to replay behind her eyelids. And as she struggled against the vice grip of her captor, she could not suppress the shudders. Had she sacrificed them all because of her selfishness, her weakness in not being able to confront and kill Ravenna sooner? Snow remembered the freedom she had been allowed during the year before her coming of age. She had been given so many opportunities where Ravenna had been vulnerable, trusting enough to lower her defenses when with the younger girl. Had they been wasted? Could the lives lost have been saved had Snow just grabbed the dagger and plunged it into Ravenna's icy, dead heart then?

But it had not been dead. Snow remembered lying against the body of the older woman, noting that, though very faint, there had always been a beat. At times, she had been overwhelmed by the fear that it would go out like a flickering candle in the winter's winds, but it had remained. And she could still feel it. Beyond the layers of plate and cloth and leather that separated her flesh from Ravenna's, Snow could sense that the Queen's heart still beat for her. The roaring in Snow's ears subsided rapidly, the rapid hammering of her own heart pumping clarity back into her brain. The sudden glint of gold fleck caught her eye and she gazed into the eyes of Ravenna from barely parted eyelashes. There was something alien in the turbulent orbs, something foreign to the Queen. And suddenly, Snow realized that it was not her Queen she was fighting but the shade that overtook her. Snow had only seen Ravenna converse with her phantom once or twice, but each time left the Queen somewhat more hollow than she had been prior to it. She had never been cruel to Snow, until the day when she had barred her in the dungeon, but there was a despondence that took over her. A despondence that scared Snow incessantly.

"You see," Ravenna continued, unaware of the change going through her captive's mind, "We're not that different, are we?"

Snow was unceremoniously dropped to her knees, letting out a gasp as the impact jolted her frame. The reflection of the mirror to her right shined, though its brilliance had been depleted some. Spitting the excess blood from her mouth, Snow growled at the creature that had overtaken her love, "I am everything you're not."

_I am everything _she _needs,_ Snow added mentally as her sword swung at the form of the Witch. Ravenna deftly dodged the strikes, not even bothering to defend against them as each sailed harmlessly through the air within inches of their mark. One of Snow's downward strikes was caught, her momentum converted into a spin as Ravenna gripped her throat, holding her above the fire pit. The heat lapped at Snow's exposed neck and heated the armor to a level of discomfort that was near painful but not quite. The glare sent her way was one of unadulterated hatred, something she had never seen in her Queen, even when she had sacked the castle all those years ago. The golden film covering the outskirts of the irises was even more pronounced against the burning blaze before them. Snow screamed in pain as the grip around her sword hand tightened to beyond agonizing. She fought valiantly to keep a firm grip on the hilt, but the nerves in her hand were alight and she could not control the spasm which caused her weapon to fall to the floor. The hard backhand that caught her across the face sent her body flying across the circular chamber, colliding into the floor across the fire pit.

Lifting her olive eyes, she could only watch in horror as the woman who had once been hers stepped into the burning inferno, the very visage of an angel of hell as her skin sizzled from her bones.

"You cannot defeat me!" the beastly image roared from the flames, "I have lived twenty lives; ravaged entire kingdoms; I have been given powers which you could not even fathom. I will never stop. Never."

Snow would have wept had she not been so petrified for her Queen as her body was consumed slowly by the flames. She braced herself against the floor, hoping that she would somehow find the courage and the strength to vanquish the evil that had come to take her Ravenna away.

"I will give this wretched world the Queen it deserves," the reddened marks that had consumed some of the pale skin covering the Witch's face disappeared as she moved out of the flames and toward the struggling Snow White. Her foot connected with the younger girl's side, rolling her onto her back as Ravenna kneeled and straddled her waist. A knife, slender and made with a hilt of ivory and gold, hung over Snow's head and she could not help but become exasperated in how often she found herself in the same exact situation.

"By fairest blood it is done!"

Snow brought her gauntleted forearm forward, meeting the thrust just above her face. For a moment, she caught a glimmer of grey in the widening pools of gold, providing a slight retraction of the Witch's hand so that it did not smash through Snow's weak defense. The second of hesitancy was all she needed. The curved dagger that she had hidden under her plated armor was gripped tightly in her hand and sunk deeply into the Queen's side. Snow felt her stomach churn, the acidic taste of bile rising into the back of her throat. It had gone in with such ease. So simple; the act of taking a life.

Ravenna was shaking, molten gold dripping from the corners of her eyes and out of her nose, mouth, and ears. The drops hit the floor in small piles of metal grains the size of fine sand. Snow felt unbidden tears stream down her face as she looked upon the clear forest-green eyes of her love so filled with fear and pain. To no one, she seemed to say, "And by fairest blood it is undone."

The Queen fell away from her, gasping, wheezing as her face was contorted with wrinkles and the once beautiful frame filled with youth and power shrank to a wizened husk of its former glory. Snow stood, unsure of what she could do, as the frightened form of Ravenna pushed itself toward the base of the golden mirror, her hand grasping for the familiar surface only to fall short of it.

The tears blurred her vision but Snow knew that she was losing the one thing she had come to want more than anything else. She did not want her kingdom or its people, or the love of William or Eric or anyone else. All she wanted was to feel those arms wrap around her as they sat by the ruined water fountain in the rose garden in the early summer. And all because of the accursed Mirror, Snow had come to lose it all. Letting out an unintelligible cry, she hurled the dagger, still clutched tightly in her hand, straight into the glossy face of the demon glass. As the dagger point hit the phantom, a symphony of three shouts sprang into the air. Snow screamed in rage at the unfairness of it all; Ravenna shrieked as the pieces of the one constant in her life flew around her in a spray of precious metal; the Mirror phantom let out a gasp that held the sound of scraping metal before falling silent for eternity.

"W-what have you done?" Ravenna whispered, her voice barely audible as she fought to keep the breath in her lungs.

"I-" Snow did not have an answer. Her knees hit the ground beside the prone form of the once omnipotent Witch, reduced to nothing more than a fragile creature on the verge of death. Glass, completely devoid of the once pure gold that had once adorned it, crunched beneath her weight. The fear in Ravenna's eyes quickened Snow's heartbeat and she suddenly knew that she had done the right thing, "I could not give that thing my heart…"

Ravenna's eyes were growing misty, the fog of death creeping closer to her as the faint heartbeat finally began to give out. Snow grasped one of the Queen's hands, noting how cold and lifeless it was already beginning to feel, her other hand coming to rest above the struggling woman's chest as though her sheer will could keep the thrumming organ from going silent. The desperation was evident as she reiterated, "I could not give that thing my heart… because I had already given it to you."

Her ruby lips softly caressed Ravenna's and Snow caught the hint of salt on the tip of her tongue from where her tears had drifted onto her love's cheek. Ravenna's eyes widened at the sweetness of the touch. The fear that had blanketed her senses was pulled back like a dark curtain, letting in the summer sun to grace her being in its warm light. The skin above her chest suddenly felt constricting, as though her heart was trying to break the veins and arteries binding it to the body cavity and shatter the fragile bones of her ribcage to be as close as it possibly could to the brunette hovering over her. The lavish heat that had caressed her in gentle waves was rapidly becoming unbearable as Ravenna's muscles clenched and elongated to the point where she feared they would rip apart. Her heartbeat was frantic, flapping like an injured butterfly fleeing an unseen predator. Her hand clasped Snow's with urgency born from panic. Something was happening to her that she could not understand and it was more terrifying than death itself.

Snow looked down as the Queen's eyes filled with salty tears and her mouth opened in a perfect 'o' as silent screams escaped her throat through gasps of cool air. Her fingers felt like they were going to snap under the vice grip they were being held in, but the younger girl did not dare to let go. No matter how violent the Queen's death would be- for surely she was dying- Snow would never leave her side ever again. So she stayed and took in as much of her love's face as she could behind the film of tears that clouded her pupils. Ravenna's back arched, several snaps resounding through the hauntingly still hall, until it finally caved in on itself and the Witch's body lay unmoving. The light that had once burned without equal in the molten orbs of evergreen drifted away, leaving behind a soulless shell. The victorious Princess shook her head, black locks whipping through the air and wrapping around her face like a dark halo. The hand resting against Ravenna's chest clutched at the sharp spines that covered the loose dress covering the cold corpse beneath, wishing that somewhere beneath the fabric, she would be able to find hope in the form of the faint pulsating movement of blood flowing through hollowed chambers and pumps. But there was nothing but stillness.

She screamed. She didn't care who heard her or what they would think seeing her clinging to the dead remains of the blight that had claimed the land for a decade. All there had ever been, was now gone. All that Snow had ever done no longer made any sense. The justifications and explanations were air parching her throat in a desolate desert when what she needed lay beneath her, cold and forever out of reach.

Snow could not have said when she had taken the knife in hand or how its point came to rest against the valley between her breasts. The metal was stained by the crimson blood that had not run from any wound of Ravenna's for centuries until that day. In her hands it looked so big and out of place. In the Witch's possession, it had been complete, menacing and beautiful just like its mistress. Snow's clumsiness had torn a small gash through her right hand as she clutched the blade with it. Her left rested against the hilt, but it was frightening to feel the residual warmth from when she had plunged it through Ravenna's armored frock and the pliable sinew of her body.

A sigh eased itself out of her parted, bloodied lips. She had not lied when she had said that her heart belonged to the Witch; and if Ravenna's heart no longer beat, then Snow's would not either. The tip of the dagger ripped through Snow's plated armor as though it were paper, the magic imbued in it still strong. The brunette gasped as she felt it pierce the thin layer of her milky skin, feeling the tendrils of crimson blood drip down and stain the fabric of her tunic vermillion. One more breath and she would push it in. One more breath and she would see her beloved once more, and they would run away together like they should have in the beginning; before there were fathers and Dukes and their sons and Huntsmen. There would only be the Rose and the Raven.

Snow's hands tightened their hold and she slid the knife into her chest… only, it would not budge. Something was keeping it from giving her the release that she so desperately desired. Sudden terror gripped her. Had William and Eric found her? Were they trying to wrestle away her only hope for salvation? She begged them to let her go, to let her end it and return to the arms that were made to hold her.

A soft chuckle sounded from behind, the sound of silver bells tinkling in the dawn, "I cannot let you do that, My Love, for your heart is mine, and I will not let you take it from me."

Snow's head whipped around, disbelief coloring her face a pale pearl. It was not possible. Reality was never this kind. Her trembling hands reached up to touch the radiant flesh of cheeks faintly pink with youthful blush.

"Snow!" a harsh voice from the entrance to the Mirror chamber called. Snow's hand slipped away from the visage as though it were made of smoke, and her heart nearly shattered in a manner similar to the golden phantom. Someone was pulling her away from the form of her love. She fought against the restraining arms, tearing at them through cloth and leather until her hands were bloody from the scratches she had inflicted upon her assailant and the skin on her fingers opened in her futile struggles. Her view of the Queen was shadowed by the dark silhouette of another's body. Eric's crystal eyes peered into her frantic green pools with concern, his hands running up and down her shoulders as she violently shook under the weight of her sobs.

"Snow," his voice was quieter, afraid that too loud a noise would further aggravate the fragile girl, whose eyes looked so lost, looking up at him. A fragile dove caught in the clutches of a storm that had finally washed ashore in a foreign land after the tempest had cleared. Trying again to break through the Princess's trance, he murmured, "Snow, it's alright. She can't hurt you anymore."

Snow's eyes blinked. Her head tilted to the side ever so slightly, eyes resting upon the crippled form of the Queen, lying strewn against the stairs. Old and withered, blowing away in the wind that trickled through the opening in the mouth opened in a gasp, the scream dying in the pit of her stomach as her heart clenched in desperation. She could have sworn that she had heard that silky voice calling to her, staying the blade that would have pierced her chest and brought them together again. Now, gazing down at the remains of what had once been, Snow's mental state swiftly crumbled. She buried her face in the Huntsman's chest, clinging to him as though the mere presence of another human being would somehow minimize how bereft of everything she felt.

"It's alright Snow," Eric repeated, unaware that his compassion was completely misdirected, "She can't hurt us anymore."

"No," Snow whispered, her head resting in a way that would allow her to hear his strong and steady heartbeat. The sound lulled her and she found her eyelids fluttering under the unexpected exhaustion that seeped through her entire body. "She's gone now. She's gone forever."

And she fell into blissful unconsciousness, listening to the thrum of a living heartbeat, and imagining what the sound would have been had she been resting against the one she truly wanted.

**P.S: Oh how I cried when Snow killed Ravenna. Tears drowning my insides because my friends always make fun of me for never showing emotion and I didn't want to disappoint them there. But it's alright, because in fanfiction, anything can happen! Rainbow unicorns could spirit the two away to a land of marshmallow pudding and ice cream sundaes... not that that is what will happen next chapter, I promise. It will be more serious... though I would totally read a fic with that ending! Anyway, please click that glorious review button and tell me how I did. Did I do the movie justice? Was it good? Bad? Somewhere in the middle! Whatever you like, put it down and I will read it and cherish it like I would my own child! Even though I don't actually have a child... but review anyway!**


	5. The North Tower

**A/N: Well, this brief but fun work has now come to an end. I feel somewhat sad to let it go so soon, but it must be done I suppose. I felt that after writing a previous work for almost a year before finishing, this shorty was a good transition before moving into something long again. Thank you to all who read; I hope it was an enjoyable read and for the most part without too many grammatical errors. Leave a review if you feel you wish to and... well, that's it. I'm really suckish at writing goodbyes.**

**Disclaimer: *sniff* Still don't own anything of any value nor do I make a profit from this.**

**Warning: There will be mature content ahead, which will be sectioned off by bold labeling. If you do not wish to read, but you want to see how the story ends, you can skip ahead to the 'end' mark. Otherwise, read on!**

The coronation ceremony had gone longer than Snow would have liked. Being exulted by others had never made her especially comfortable. Being made to sit for hours upon the old golden throne that had once belonged to her father, Snow could not keep herself from wishing that the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her into its darkened depths. At least then everyone would stop staring at her.

As it was, the castle had grown silent in the early hours of the morning; most of the patrons and nobles and villagers lay in numerous states of slumber, snoring away the effects of the alcohol and the many varieties of food courses. Snow, having sipped at her light white wine the entire evening, found herself the lone insomniac among the silent halls and corridors. Once, she tripped over the prone body of a drunken serving boy, laid across the rug and happily dreaming about the girl who had fallen next to him with her arm draped over his expanded stomach. The two had groaned, moving into a more comfortable position on the plush carpet, but otherwise remaining dormant.

Snow's slippers made soft scraping noises against the weathered steps that led to the tower's heights. As she ascended, she felt the cold shivers running through her spine. She had not planned on coming to the forsaken place, but her legs had carried her there nonetheless; it was as though she followed the contours of an old map that she would never forget. The path that led forever into the dank regions of her former prison; eternally calling to her, whispering into her dreams, of the cloaked figure that had called on her so long ago and started the madness that set fire to her veins at the thought of _her_ name.

The moon was out, shining down in sparkling beams of silver upon the surf as it came in rhythmically to crash against the shore. The cool spray reached high into the sky, bathing the black rocks in its foam, but never ascending far enough to touch the turret facing north. Still, it had always been colder up among the cells, if only because human fire had rarely been allowed entry except in one or two of the many crevices and dungeon holds. Snow felt as though an eternity had passed since she had come to the foreboding room behind the rusted iron bars. So much had come to be done and undone that the memories of the lonely nights spent curled beside the fireplace felt more of a dream than reality. Still, the dreams were far from easily ignored. They overtook her every time she allowed her eyes to close, becoming the keystone reason for Snow's midnight walk.

She had expected the cell to be empty and dark, lifeless and best left forgotten. Instead, her breath caught in her throat as her green gaze fell upon the cloaked figure standing in front of the small window acting as the only source of light in the little room. Snow's trembling hands wrapped around the bars of the door, afraid to exert the necessary force to push it open and break the barrier between her and the ghostly occupant of her old cage. The hinges creaked as she tightened her grip to try and steady herself, her blood pumping erratically through her cardiac system. The figure whipped its head around, keeping its face lost in the shadows of the hood, to look at Snow's stricken form. The moon's luminescence was reflected in startling clarity, as though coming from the tapetum lucidum of a feral predatory feline. Sparkling emeralds among a sea of carbonate.

Snow's body suddenly felt weightless as she had inadvertently pressed against the door which had promptly given way, sending her tumbling down with the ground rapidly approaching her face. With centimeters to spare, her descent was halted by a firm hand wrapped around her arm. Her other arm came to support her, pushing her up from the floor until she came to stand face to face with the cloaked stranger… who was not quite as much of a stranger once Snow was able to catch a glimpse of the face behind the veil of silver cloth.

Snow's hands came up to cup over her mouth. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she reminded herself to breathe. Golden locks spilled out as the figure lowered the concealing hood, sweeping down smooth shoulders and a straight back. Two pale hands came to wrap themselves around Snow's wrists, slowly bringing down the small shield she had placed to hide her still agape lips.

"Ravenna?" was the uncertain whisper that broke the quiet of the solemn cell.

Snow could not think. She reacted purely on instinct, grabbing the back of the woman's head and crashing her lips into the ones she had been craving for years. The taste of milk and honey filled her, sweet as nectar running down her parched throat. A delicate moan escaped the lips of the former Queen as she melted into the younger girl's embrace. The hunger only increased in the younger girl as she desperately clung to the supple body pressed against her. Snow vowed to never wake from this were it a dream and wished doom upon anyone idiotic enough to try and return her to the vile, lonely place she knew to be reality.

"This is a dream," she whimpered, keeping her lips firmly pressed against Ravenna's all the while.

"Only if you believe it is, my dear," the Queen was soft-spoken. The bitterness and ferocity that had once bubbled like heated tar beneath the poised surface were no longer there. Instead, there was only a peaceful strength, thrumming in time with a magnificent sound coming from just past the older woman's ribcage. Snow's brows furrowed in confusion; she could not seem to determine the origin of the melodic symphony. It had not been present in such volume, but as the moments ticked by to the even palpitation, it became ever clearer the source of the noise.

Snow gasped, inhaling another stream of the sweet aroma that was Ravenna's. Raising her eyes to meet the tender green glow of her love, she asked incredulously, "Is that-?"

"My heart beats for you more surely than the sun rising from the east," the Queen soothed, her hands running through the evening curls of hair falling along Snow's shoulders. They then curled into the smooth fabric of the white sleeping gown, tangling in the loose shift that thinly hid away the alabaster skin she so wished to uncover. Snow's breathing was quite irregular by that point; small mewls of joy and desire escaped her parted lips before being consumed by the caress of Ravenna's kiss once more.

"As does mine," the Princess newly crowned sighed as she melted into the searching hands running the length of her lithe body, "You will always be my Queen."

"And you will always be my Winter Rose," Ravenna's mouth ghosted over Snow's outstretched neck. The girl had not even noticed herself pull her head back to give the older woman more access to the wanting flesh. Each chaste touch sent flames writhing along the length of the heated flesh.

Ravenna bit down lightly on the girl's pulse point, purring as Snow buried her hands in thick golden tresses and screamed out unintelligible pleas of, "Never stop!"

"Shush, my love," Ravenna brought her face to a mere centimeter's distance from Snow's, covering her panting mouth with a finger as her other hand possessively gripped the brunette's waist, "It would be a shame for someone to hear us and end this night prematurely."

**Avert thine eyes, those who wish to skip ahead. :)**

Snow could only nod, biting her bottom lip as though sealing a promise. The look of longing that burned in her eyes caused Ravenna's heart to flutter as she twirled the lace that fell from the girl's shoulders. A questioning glance crossed the Queen's eyes as she traced the dip just below the Princess's collarbone, the white satin moving up and down with each breath, tantalizing as it fell in a manner that left just enough to the imagination. Snow's irises became a lighter shade of olive as she slowly nodded her consent, feeling frightened and bold in equal amounts. Her stomach quivered in anticipation as Ravenna pushed her against one of the walls of the cold cell. The Queen's thigh pressed between the Princess's, the hem of her night dress gave way to the toned muscle and the friction was enough to bring Snow to her knees had she not been supported by the wall and her lover's arms. The younger girl felt her nipples harden beneath the dress, the fabric roughly running over them sensually. She had not expected the mixture of pain and pleasure that came as Ravenna cupped her breasts and ran her thumbs over the aroused mounds. Her moans were engulfed by the greedy lips encasing her own. An adamant tongue pried her teeth apart and entered Snow's mouth, battling with her for dominance in a sweet dance. Snow had no chance from the moment she had laid eyes on the cloaked figure of the Queen and she was more than willing to capitulate to the demands of her soon-to-be conqueror.

"More," she groaned as the blonde released her only to wrap her mouth around the erect nipple of Snow's left breast, her right still being massaged by an attentive hand. The dress was slipped open, removing the last flimsy barrier between Ravenna and her object of affection, baring Snow to her the sensation had been intense, now it was all-consuming. The promise of silence was already forgotten by the Princess as she let out another wanton moan, arching her back until only the back of her head was resting against the cool stone wall. Her hips bore down on the older woman's thigh, rocking to increase the much needed friction as she felt moisture begin to pool against her undergarments. A light chuckle against her skin, covered in gooseflesh from the mixture of external chill in the air and the blazing inferno hissing just underneath Snow's epidermis, only caused the brunette to writhe more. She could feel something coil in the pit of her abdomen, screeching to be released.

"Ravenna," Snow pleaded, needing to feel the Queen within her, finally becoming one after all of the years dancing around one another. Much as the woman in question wanted to prolong her exploration of the girl's body, she could not refuse the siren calls her love was producing as she increased her momentum and clutched at Ravenna's back.

The Queen slowly lowered her hand, slipping it under the hem of Snow's small clothes. The beckoning dampness was warm against her fingers and allowed her to slip two fingers between the engorged folds where Snow needed her most. The gasps became cries as Ravenna pushed into her Princess. She felt the thin membrane resist her for a moment before her nails pierced through it. Snow screamed out in pain and pleasure, her nails digging angry red furrows into Ravenna's back, even through the silken silver cloak. It did not take long before Ravenna began to feel the tightening of Snow's walls. She gently brought a third finger to increase the tension, curling them in to hit the bundle of nerves that would bring about the other girl's downfall. Snow screamed out the Queen's name as her orgasm hit; her legs came up to circle around Ravenna's waist as she fought to support herself under the waves of eroticism.

Only after Snow was certain that her knees would not buckle and that she would not faint from the sudden rush of euphoria, was she able to lower her legs and stand on her own. She whimpered in slight disappointment as Ravenna slid her fingers out of her entrance, but felt a rush of heat reach her cheeks as she watched the Queen take the digits into her mouth and suck at the fluid that now coated them. Unabashed, the blonde leaned over and brought her lips to ferociously assault Snow's mouth, giving the girl a taste of her stayed in each other's arms for a while, feeling the fulfillment of the moment alone.

**End of mature content. :)**

Snow felt an overwhelming sense of longing take over her, remembering the small, cracked fountain in the rose garden. Her eyes trailed to the window, though she knew she would not be able to see the hedges of greenery. Instead, the light of the rising sun lit up her green irises with a golden sheen. It was still too early for the others to wake, but Snow could feel the heavy irons of dread settle where before there was only passion and serenity.

"Dawn is upon us, my love," the voice beside her only affirmed her fears.

Biting her lower lip, Snow came to look into the evergreen depths of Ravenna's piercing gaze, the sun's rays livening her pale visage, "I don't want them to keep us apart."

She received no answer, only a defeated look.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, praying to all the gods ever to have existed that Ravenna would say 'yes', "When you told me that you would take me away?"

The Queen's eyes widened, her mouth coming slightly ajar as though she wanted to say something but could not seem to find the words. Her voice was low, nearly a whisper, "I have taken too much from you to selfishly take away your home and those you call your friends because of this."

The slap resounded in the hollow reaches of the North Tower. Both women stood with bewildered expressions, unsure of what had just occurred. Ravenna reached a tentative hand to rest against the angry red mark that was blossoming across her cheek. Snow held her hands in fists by her sides, not caring that her palm stung with the force she had put in the strike. Her teeth ground against one another as she tried to keep herself from crying. Instead, she bit out, "You_ Idiot!_"

"Beg your pardon?" the older woman sounded confused as to whether she should have felt offended or deserving of the blow and the ensuing insult.

"I don't want them!" Snow was beyond reason at that point, her words growing in frustration and volume with each spoken syllable. "Damn the castle and damn the people in it!"

Then quieter, "I just want to be with you."

Ravenna's arms instinctively enveloped the shivering girl before her legs gave out from the pressure of her despair. Never had she thought that someone could have harbored such unconditional love for her and the Queen chastised herself for not seeing it sooner. Snow had given everything without so much as a whispered protest, and it was time for Ravenna to return the favor; something she was glad to do. She had spent so much energy preparing herself for Snow's rejection that the realization that she would not have to ever let her go was more than she knew how to handle. Still, there was only joy in her heart as she murmured against the girl's ear, "Then, Snow White, will you run away with me?"

"Yes," Snow immediately replied, burying her face in the Queen's neck and inhaling her cathartic scent. "Always, my answer is yes."

"I love you," Ravenna whispered into her ear, finally able to say it without interruption and trepidation. Snow's heart quickened and her arms only tightened their hold on the blonde Sorceress.

"And I you," she smiled into Ravenna's hair, "Forever."

~o()o~

"Some guests said they heard noises coming from the North Tower," a breathless William told an equally frantic Eric.

"We have no time to lose," he called back, already running toward the staircase. "She must be found!"

The two warriors hurried into the high cells of the forbidding tower, searching each crevice and shadow for signs of the recently crowned- now absent- Queen. Their voices bounced in waning echoes against the dead ceilings and bulwarks of the North Tower, but met no reply. Even as they reached the cell where Snow had been kept a prisoner for most of her life, all they were able to find was a vermillion rose with its stem wound around an obsidian raven's feather and the bars that had once adorned the small window ripped out and lying by the abandoned hearth. Outside, the sounds of nesting sparrows and the crash of waves drowned out anything else. Both men looked at one another before continuing their desperate, futile search.

**P.S: I was planning on making the ending a melancholy reflection but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I am a softy for happy endings when it comes to misunderstood villain characters... which is why normal happy endings are my bane! But that's what fanfaction is there for, no? Anyhow, thanks again for reading and leave your thoughts with me in reviews! Gosh, I really do need to work on my farewells. They sound so cold.**


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